A Twist Of Time
by blackxhole21
Summary: When Dumbledore discovers that Hogwarts' only chance of uniting rests with the unlikely chance of Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy falling in love, he realizes this may be his one chance to save his students. So he sends them back in time...together.
1. PROLOGUE: Leaving Time Behind

**PROLOGUE: LEAVING TIME BEHIND**

_HOGWARTS CASTLE_

Hermione Granger headed up the stairs to the common room with the idea of taking a nap to rid herself of the horrendous headache she'd gotten during Ancient Runes. Halfway up the stairs, however, she felt the familiar lurch as the staircase changed to head in a different direction. When it stopped moving, she sighed and kept heading upwards. When she reached the top, she realized with a start that she was outside the Headmaster's office---furthermore, her name, along with Draco Malfoy's, was on a gold slip of paper on the bulletain board outside it.

Dumbledore had started a system this year to make it easier for him to speak to the students: he had placed a bulletain board outside his office, and a few around the school (all of which had a Protean Charm placed upon them). Whenever he wanted to speak to a student, he'd write their name on a slip of paper---there were different colors according to how important it was: gold was the most urgent, then silver, black, blue, green, and white was the lowest level---and pin it to the bulletain board along with the time he wanted to see them. Hermione hardly ever glanced at them anymore; her name was never on it. But a gold piece of paper was the highest level of urgency, and her appointment was in ten minutes. Puzzled, she sat at the top of the staircase with her copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ to wait.

Eight minutes later, she stood and walked over to the entrance once more. She saw Malfoy coming up the staircase behind her. "Drooble's Best Blowing Gum," she said to the statue, flicking her hands at it. As the staircase started to spiral upwards, she stepped onto the top step, and was halfway up the tower when Malfoy climbed onto it as well. When it stopped, she crossed the hallway to Dumbledore's office door and knocked as Malfoy came up behind her.

"Any idea what this is all about?" he asked.

"No," she responded shortly, and he shut up when the door in front of them opened and Dumbledore appeared, looking grave.

"Ah, Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy. Come in, come in," he said, closing the door once they'd passed through it.

"What's this about, headmaster?" Malfoy asked.

"We're not in trouble, are we?" Hermione asked.

"Not trouble, no," Dumbledore replied. "No---danger. Grave danger."

"What? Why?" Hermione asked.

"Miss Granger, you are muggle-born and the friend of Harry Potter. Mr. Weasley is pureblood, so they cannot touch him, but you are in danger of being killed by his Death Eaters. You, Mr. Malfoy," he added, "are in danger because of your change in loyalties."

"Yes, sir," he answered, now paying close attention.

"Change in loyalties?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, indeed. Mr. Malfoy has joined the Order against his father's and Voldemort's wishes."

She stared, but Dumbledore seemed to expect a response, so she said, "Oh. How...unexpected."

"Thanks so much, Granger," Malfoy said, but without malice.

"In any event," Dumbledore continued doggedly, "I have to keep both of you safe."

"Not to sound horrible or anything," Malfoy said, "but why?"

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "Why us? Why not all the other people out there?"

"Because each of you have the blood of two of the original founders of Hogwarts in you," Dumbledore replied.

"_Really?"_ Hermione asked. "Which two?"

"Miss Granger, you have the blood of Godric Gryffindor and Rowena Ravenclaw. Mr. Malfoy, you have Salazar Slytherin and Helga Hufflepuff. In any event, I must keep the two of you safe from all harm, for reasons I cannot discuss at the present time."

"How are you supposed to do that?" Malfoy asked doubtfully.

"I am sending you back in time," Dumbledore said simply.

"What?" Hermione asked sharply. "Why?"

"Because I must keep you safe," Dumbledore replied. "It will only be for a short time," he assured them, standing. "When you can come back, I will create a time portal. This will remain open and will not be noticed by anyone other than the pair of you. No one will be able to pass through it save the two of you, and you both must be present. Now, it may not take you back to this time; if it takes you to another time, just stay there until you see another time portal. It may take several tries to bring you back here. Now, please follow me."

They both stood and followed him to a door, above which read: _yawrood siht hguorht seil nam fo yrotsih eht_.

He opened it to reveal a swirling black-and-white cloud, hung with sparkling silver stars. It looked like a picture I'd once seen in a science book of a black hole, but far prettier.

"Step through, both of you," he commanded, and they did so.

Albus Dumbledore closed the door behind them and leaned heavily against it. "Now comes the true test of my abilities," he said aloud. A cat came out from beneath his desk and transformed itself into Minerva McGonagall.

"You sent them?" she asked.

Albus nodded. "I sent them. Now, Minerva, they have to fall in love."

She looked startled. "What? _That's_ why you sent them? I thought they were in danger, Albus!"

"They are. The entire school is---unless they can unite it."

"According to whom, if I might ask?" Minerva asked in a no-nonsense tone.

"The stars," Albus replied, shaking his head. "And the stars have never yet led me wrong."

"And how do you expect them to fall in love, Albus? They hate each other!"

"Ah, my dear Professor, did you not see the look exchanged between them when Miss Granger was informed of Mr. Malfoy's change in loyalties? I have hope for them still. And I placed a spell on them---"

"Albus! You can't mess with people's free will!" Minerva exclaimed.

"---to make them each more open-minded," he finished, his eyes twinkling. "I would never mess with their free will, Minerva. Do give me some credit. If everything goes to plan, they will each begin depending on the other, because they will be the only two people fom the future---which, in a human mind, automatically causes a bond."

"And you think this will work, Albus?"

Albus Dumbledore sighed. "For the sake of this school, we must hope."


	2. Orientation

**CHAPTER ONE: ORIENTATION**

DRACO MALFOY

_HOME OF SIR DRACO_

I woke up in a huge, warm bed, confused with a killer headache. I didn't know where I was.

"Ah, monsieur Malfoy, you be awake, good sir!" someone shouted abruptly.

I looked over to see an old woman, beaming at me.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Oh, monsieur, you hit your head, you did. Took a nasty fall off'n that horse of yours, and you be out for three days full, sir. You isn't remembering me, sir?"

"No," I replied bluntly. "Sorry."

"No sorrys, monsieur. I be not deserving."

"So who are you?"

"Dora, sir. Your cook and maid. I be taking care of you whilst you was asleep. A long time it was, sir. The servants be gossiping that you not be waking at all, sir, but I tells them to hush. I tells them you be waking soon, sir, and wake you did!"

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Dora," I said kindly. "I'm sorry, but I can't remember where I am, either."

"You be at your home, sir," she replied. "You not be naming it, sir, like some other knights be doing. You be saying it is a snobby thing to do. Lucky you be to wake now, sir, for the masquerade is in the night."

So I was a knight, I thought to myself. I was a knight, and in this time, I fell off my horse and hit my head, and was unconsious for three days. But—

"The masquerade?" I asked.

"The Masquerade Ball, monsieur. I be forgetting you not be remembering. King Charles, he be having a Masquerade ball for all his daughters be finding a man to marry, monsieur. The eldest princess, she be pretty, they say. They say she be so pretty as men fall in love with her at first meeting of her, sir."

"Is that so?" I said to myself. "And I was planning on going, Dora? Before I---fell off my horse, you know."

"Oui, monsieur. You be finding a costume nearly a fortnight ago, sir, and trying it on to be sure you be pretty in it."

I smiled. "Which princess am I after, then?"

"Oh, no one be knowing that, sir. No knight has been ever meeting them, sir."

"How many princesses are there?"

"Only three, sir. Princesses Mya, Elizabeth, and Annamaria."

"And this is tonight?"

"Oui. You had best be getting out of bed, monsieur, and getting ready for it. Louis will bring your horse around, monsieur---the castle is but down the street, but you be not wanting to get your pretty costume dirtied."

"Who's Louis?"

"The stable boy, sir. You be rich and having many servants. You is very good to us, monsieur. All are proud to be serving you, sir."

"Well, thank you," I replied. "Where's my costume, then?"

"Over yonder in your wardrobe, sir. You not be wanting it dirtied, sir, and you hide it from servants so as they be not finding it. I be leaving now, sir, so you be getting ready."

"Thank you, Dora," I replied as she left.

When she was gone, I sat up in bed. Dumbledore had sent us both back in time. So where was Granger? No matter how much I hated her, I needed her around as a touchstone to reality. I didn't want to get caught up in being a knight. In any case, I could hope she'd be at the Masquerade.

I got up and went to the wardrobe Dora had pointed to. Opening it, I saw outfits, tons of them, each for a different purpose. Fighting, sleeping, riding, dinner---I'd read all about knights, and what they did and how they lived their lives, so I recognized all the outfits---all, that is, but one.

One, on the far left, was black and blue. I pulled it out and laid it on the bed behind me.

The outfit consisted of the traditional black suit pants, a black button-down shirt, and a black mask; it also had a long billowing cape and a vest. The mask was rimmed around the edge and the eyeholes with a shimmering pale blue the color of the sky in summer; that same blue made up the inner lining of the cape, and the vest. All in all, it was simple---but very elegant. I put it on immediately, then crossed the room to a full-length mirror nearby.

I looked exactly the same, I noticed, in terms of appearance; other than the outfit I was wearing, I could have walked into Hogwarts again, and no one would have known the difference. I was glad---hopefully that meant Granger would look the same as well, which would mean I could find her easier.

I combed my hair, leaving it loose instead of slicking it back, and put the mask on. Then I turned and opened my bedroom door to see a long hallway stretching ahead of me. To my right was a staircase, so I went downstairs to find Dora waiting for me at the bottom of them, along with about six other women.

All of them oohed and aahed over my outfit.

"Dora?" I asked when she led me outside, to where a boy sat just ahead of a carriage, led by horses.

"Oui, monsieur?"

"Who were all those women?"

"Humble servants, sir. We has all been wondering and wondering about the costume you be wearing for the masquerade, and several be wanting to see it for themself. Well, you be having a good time, eh, monsieur?" she said, and went back into the house. I went to the carriage, and the young boy---he couldn't have been older than eight---opened the door for me.

"Thank you," I said, surprised, and got in. He closed the door and set the horses to a gallop.

I was on my way to King Charles' castle.

HERMIONE GRANGER

_HOME OF KING CHARLES_

When I woke, I was lying on the floor. On _what_ floor, I couldn't say. But it was definitely a floor, and it wasn't all that comfortable.

"My lady?" I heard a soft knocking. It hurt my head, and I moaned softly. "My lady, are you all right?" A moment later I heard a door open and close, and someone gasp. "My lady!"

"My lady?" I asked dazedly.

"Here, my lady, allow me to help you," the voice---definitely a girl's---said. I felt arms go around my shoulders, and the girl helped me to a sitting position.

"Who are you?" I asked stupidly, opening my eyes. There was a girl sitting near me. She had pale blonde, curly, waist-length hair, and bright blue eyes, which at the moment held pure worry.

"It's me, my lady. Rosalie."

"Oh," I replied. Then I realized: Dumbledore had sent us back, but he hadn't told us what time he was sending us to. I needed to find Malfoy. First, however, I could get information from Rosalie. "Rosalie," I said out loud. "What a pretty name."

She flushed. "I thank you, my lady."

"Rosalie, I can't seem to remember anything. I fell and I think I hit my head."

"Oh, dear," she said, helping me to my feet. "Do you remember where you are?"

"No," I admitted. "I'm sure it will all come back to me eventually. Right now I'm a little confused. I must have hit my head rather badly, I'm afraid. But no, I haven't a clue where I am."

"You are in the castle of King Charles, my lady."

"Why?"

Rosalie eyed me, half-smiling. "It is your home, my lady."

"Hang on---I'm not a queen, am I? Please tell me I'm not a queen."

"No, no, my lady. You are a Princess. The Queen---your mother---died when you were a small child."

"Oh," I said. "Um...this will sound odd, but what is my name?"

Rosalie looked thoroughly worried. "My lady, you cannot remember? The masquerade is in one hour, my lady---the ball at which you are meant to look for a husband. We cannot have you dancing with people when you do not know your name."

"Wait," I said, trying to pretend as if I'd just remembered something. If there was a masquerade ball, I needed to go to it---Malfoy might be there, and I absolutely had to find him. "It's Hermione, isn't it?" I asked, praying my name hadn't changed.

Rosalie beamed. "Oh, I am so relieved. Yes, my lady, Hermione is your full name, but nought but the king himself calls you that. Everyone calls you Princess Mya."

"Yes, I remember," I lied. "And the Masquerade---I don't have to choose a husband, do I?"

"No, no," Rosalie answered. "It is only to meet, and not to choose, this time. You will have several balls---at this one, you carry a dance-book and write down the names of all the men you enjoyed dancing with, and they will be invited to the next one. It goes on and on until only one man is in your dance-book, and that will be the man you shall marry. The first ball is always a Masquerade, so that your opinions are not skewed by appearances."

"That's interesting. It isn't just men, is it?" I asked, curious.

"No, no, my lady. Many women have been invited as well. You see, until you are old enough to be engaged, no man ever sees a princess's face. You remember wearing your veil whenever you go out into the yard, yes? Many from the kingdom are attending with their wives; all wish to see your faces, as they have heard rumours of their beauty."

"I see," I said, blushing slightly. "And it begins in an hour, you say?" I asked.

"Yes, my lady. I will take care of your hair, and then I will leave whilst you change into your gown," she answered, gesturing to a stand on which a beautiful dress was hung. I didn't have time to examine it, however, because Rosalie led me into a huge bathroom and began brushing and styling my hair.

Half an hour later, Rosalie pronounced my hair and makeup "perfect," and spun me around in my chair to face the mirror. I gasped.

She hadn't tried to straighten my curls, which was the only way I knew of to calm them down; instead, she had worked with them, taming them into little ringlets about my face. I looked the same in this time as I had in my own---the only difference was my hair; it was far longer, and flowed just past my waist. Rosalie had swept the top half of my hair into a silver, dagger-shaped pin that laid flat on the back of my head; the rest hung down my back.

She had applied very little makeup, which I was grateful for; she had applied a thin black line around my dark eyes, making them look larger, and had applied a pale pink blush to my cheeks. And that was all.

"Wow," I said, looking at myself.

"My lady, you look wonderful," she declared. "Now, I will leave you to put on your underdress, then I shall help you with your corset."

"I have to wear a corset?" I asked.

"Indeed, my lady. It enhances your figure."

"Oh," I replied, feeling small. Rosalie left, and I put on the simple white dress that went beneath the corset and dress.

Soon after, Rosalie came back in and helped me with the corset. "Now," she said, turning me around to face the mirror once more. "Put on your dress. His Majesty the King will be making announcements soon. You had best meet him downstairs when you have your dress on. I am just outside if you need anything."

"All right," I agreed, and she left the room once again.

I crossed the room to the stand on which my dress was hung, and put it on, thankful that my corset wasn't too tight. The dress was beautiful; it was white, and the skirt of it touched the floor. There was a piece of silver cloth that was tied around my waist---which was very slender thanks to the corset---the ends of which hung down the left side of my dress, about halfway down the skirt. The dress had a wide neck, and the collar was of the same color and material of the dress, but was three inches worth of large folds. The bodice of the dress, perfectly smooth and tight-fitting because of the corset underneath---had silver swirls sewn into it.

Smiling, I left the room and went to meet the king---my father.


	3. The Masquerade Ball

**CHAPTER TWO: THE MASQUERADE BALL**

SIR DRACO MALFOY

_HOME OF KING CHARLES_

The carriage stopped not long after we left. Looking out the small, dirty window of the carriage, I saw a castle---a real castle, not like Hogwarts. This was a real, guarded castle, with gardens and all. It didn't have a moat, but it was absolutely beautiful. It was massive; I believe if it had been day it would have blocked out the sun. Louis opened the door of the carriage, and I noticed many other stable boys doing the same for many other men and women; the men were in elaborate costumes and masks, the women in beautiful ball gowns.

I headed inside alone, and Louis left with the carriage. I wondered how I was supposed to get home when the ball was over, but I didn't say anything. If worst came to worst, I'd walk, I told myself. It wasn't far to my house.

How weird that sounded, I realized, smiling. I have my own house, and servants too. I'm a _knight_, for Christ's sake.

I was a knight, and I was going to a masquerade ball in order to try and marry a princess. Hell, this was really weird.

I thought suddenly of my father; my father and his gruesome death at the hands of Lord Voldemort. He'd deserved what he'd gotten, the bastard. Not only had he joined the ranks of the most evil wizard alive---a sort of wizard Hitler, I remembered---but he'd broken his own rules and opinions concerning "mudbloods." Voldemort was a half blood; so, according to my father's own disgusting rules, he wasn't worthy of life, of living. Yet my father had joined his ranks, killed for him even, without a second thought as to his pedigree. He'd killed people, raped people, shot the Dark Mark into the air, tortured Muggles, and laughed when Voldemort tortured others, all for what?

A prolonged, painful death at the hands of the creature he referred to as "master."

Pathetic set of rules, if you asked me.

I headed towards the entrance, where all the other townsfolk were assembled, and waited to get inside. There was a book on a stand, and everyone had to sign his or her name to it in order to get inside. Many of the men were trying to pass the book without signing; they all wanted to be at the front of the ballroom when the princesses appeared. But two guards were standing on either side of the doorway, and they wouldn't allow you in unless you wrote your name down.

When my turn came, I signed _Draco Malfoy_ underneath the name of the man who had been in front of me. He was a knight, I'd learned from overhearing his conversation, and I noticed he'd signed _Sir_ before his name, so I added the title in front of mine as well.

It looked very odd.

When I arrived in the ballroom, I looked around to see hundreds of people, pressed as close to the platform at the front of the room as they could.

A man walked out onto the platform, and everyone bowed or curtsied. I assumed he was the king, and bowed with all the rest.

"Welcome," he said, his voice booming over the heads of all the people, "to our first Masquerade ball. In just a moment, my daughters---the princesses, of course---will be coming through that door." He pointed to the door he'd come through, and everyone turned towards it. The king noticed this, and smiled. "Please, enjoy your ball," he said, then turned and left through the door he'd come through.

PRINCESS MYA GRANGER

_HOME OF KING CHARLES_

When the king---my father---came through the door, I had to keep myself from gasping.

It was my father. My real father, from my time. Of course, he had a beard now, and he was dressed in royal costume, but it was still him. It was still Charles Granger.

I didn't have any sisters in my time, but in this time I did. I was the oldest daughter; Elizabeth, who had blonde hair and green eyes, was the middle sister; and Annamaria, with blonde hair and brown eyes, was the youngest.

I had yet to figure out why I was the only one with dark hair, but it didn't matter. When King Charles came back into the room he'd left us in, my sisters both smiled at our father; I did the same.

Smiling, he said, "You should see the crowds, my daughters; they are all anxious to view your faces. All the men, even those with wives, wish to dance with you. You shall have to choose one, and then of course the ballroom dancing will require you to switch partners."

Both my sisters nodded slightly; again I imitated them. I felt like a hand puppet, just copying everything my younger sisters did, but I did it just the same.

Annamaria smiled. "It's nice to go out into a crowd without those veils on, Father."

The king turned his attention to me.

"Hermione, you look ill. Are you well?" he asked, and I remembered that he was the only one who called me Hermione.

"Yes, father," I replied. "I took a fall this morning and hit my head, but---"

"Oh, my goodness!" Annamaria said suddenly, interrupting me. She put a hand to my head. "Are you all right? How is your head? Do you need medicine?"

"Oh, I'm all right," I said, not wanting to worry her. "My memory was off for a bit, but I'm quite well now, thank you."

"What do you mean, your memory was off?" the king asked, looking worried.

I smiled, trying to look slightly ashamed. "I couldn't remember my name, or the masquerade," I admitted.

"Are you quite well, Mya?" Elizabeth asked.

I noticed all of them looking at me worriedly.

"Yes, I'm quite all right," I assured them.

"All right, then," the king said. "Get ready to go out there. I'm warning you---there are many, many men out there, waiting. Be quite cautious in who you choose to dance with."

All three of us nodded, and suddenly he boomed, "Presenting Princess Hermione Anne Granger, eldest daughter of King Charles Louis Granger!"

With an encouraging nod from Annamaria, I stepped out of the doorway onto the platform. Sensing what I was meant to do, I walked slowly to the end of the platform, turned to the crowd, and curtsied. Standing up as straight as I could, I heard the crowd give a collective gasp of appreciation. I tried to look charming, smiling a bit, as I allowed everyone to ooh and aah over me, over my dress, and listened as the king announced, "Presenting Elizabeth Genevieve Granger, second daughter of King Charles Louis Granger!"

Elizabeth came through the doorway, and those that weren't still staring at me gazed at her as she walked slowly to stand next to me and curtsied as I had. Everyone gasped again, and began examining _her_ face and dress, for which I was grateful. Now that the attention had drifted from me somewhat, I looked around, trying to choose who I'd dance with, but it didn't matter---they were all masked. I looked for the nicest costume, smiling a little as I saw a few of them---  
several were quite ridiculous---as the king presented Annamaria: "Presenting Annamaria Justice Granger, youngest daughter of King Charles Louis Granger!"

Annamaria came out and stood by us, and in perfect unison, we all curtsied as we were awarded a huge storm of applause. We smiled and nodded to a few people; I smiled brightly at a man in a goat costume, nearly laughing at his costume---he promptly looked like he was going to faint, and grinned stupidly at me. It was very amusing---anyone we smiled at, or even looked at, acted like total idiots: a few men flexed their muscles when they saw us looking; a few pretended that women near them were in danger and heroically "rescued" them; there was even a man who tried to climb onto the stage, but everyone in the crowd held him back.

The king came onto the stage just then, and Annamaria, Elizabeth inclined their heads, and I did the same; the rest of the crowd followed suit and went into full bows and curtsies. Evidently the princesses didn't have to curtsy; we just tilted our heads toward the floor. It made me wonder why; if there was some custom that required everyone except relations to bow or curtsy to the king. I knew that people bowed and curtsied to Queens, but that the Queen also curtsied to the King. It was an interesting concept.

I pulled myself out of my thoughts when the King started speaking again.

"Now, I'd like to mention to all the men here: the first man a Princess dances with gets no additional time to dance with her, and ballroom dancing will require them to switch partners every few minutes. Every single man in this room at this moment will dance with every single woman in this room, for the same amount of time. Now, Princess Hermione will choose her first dance partner, so if we could have silence for a moment..."

The room went absolutely dead silent. You could have heard a pin drop. Every single man was waving, jumping, or offering begging eyes and faces.

Every man but one.

He was standing towards the back, wearing a suit---much like an old-  
fashioned business suit, with long coat tails---of purple. He wore a cummerbund, top hat, and bow tie in white, and a white rose was tucked into his coat button. He didn't seem to know what to do with himself; he looked lost and lonely. His stance reminded me of a friend of my father's---in my time---who was in the military; his back was straight, his feet together, his chin parallel to the floor and his hands folded behind his back.

"You there, in the violet suit over yonder," I said, pointing. He looked down at himself, then up at me. A surprised smile spread across his face when he realized I'd chosen him, and made his way through the crowd to the stage. He climbed the stairs and stood next to me.

Of course, this made close to half the men in the room become "lost and lonely" at the back of the room, hoping to be chosen by Elizabeth. She smiled and picked a man who stood close to the stage, wearing a suit of green and yellow. Many of the "lost and lonely" men came forward again to await Annamaria's decision.

Smiling, Annamaria chose a man in the center of the crowd who hadn't moved throughout the selections. Almost every other man had tried to move in order to be chosen, but this one---a well-dressed man in a robe of silver---had not.

When we each had our partners, the king instructed everyone in the crowd to choose a partner among themselves. Once everyone was paired up, my dance partner offered me his arm. I took it, and we descended the stairs to the dance floor. Each pair lined up with the next until the room was in three extraordinarily long rows.

As the music started, I was suddenly extremely glad I knew how to ballroom dance---and that I'd gotten good at it.

"Sir Devon Kinsley," my dance partner said, introducing himself and bowing, as was the custom in this time period.

"Princess Mya Granger," I replied, though it was hardly necessary, and curtsied.

The song went on for a long time. I danced with over a hundred people, I think; you started at the end of one row, and went down the line to the back of the room, switching partners whenever the man in the band instructed it; when you got to the end of the row, you were passed left to the end of the next row, and danced your way to the front; then you were passed left again and you danced to the back until you'd danced with everyone.

I was halfway down the second row, and I had about thirty names in my dance-book. I was pretty pleased with myself---I'd been worried I wouldn't like anyone, and I'd have to show up at the end of the ball with a blank book. But all the men were so pleasant, so eager to please, that they were all on their best, most charming behavior.

I got the biggest surprise of my life when, at the very end of the second row, I was passed into the arms of someone I knew.

"Hello, Hermione," I heard a familiar voice---a voice I couldn't quite place---say, and I looked at his face---covered by a black, blue-rimmed mask---curiously. No one else in the room had called me Hermione. It was always "Princess", "Princess Mya", or "my lady".

"Hello, good sir," I said, as I'd heard other women say. "And what would your name be?"

"You look beautiful," he replied, avoiding my question. "They call you 'Mya', right?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Yes," I said. "What is your name?"

"Sir Draco Malfoy," he replied, but before I could say another word I was passed to the next row.

I wrote his name down in my book, not knowing what else to do, and began dancing with the next man---Sir Michael Portius---but I wasn't really paying attention anymore.

Malfoy was here. Even more odd, that was a comforting thought. He and I were from the future, the only witch and wizard in this time. It was a slightly surreal experience. And he'd said I looked beautiful; I hadn't detected any sarcasm.

Very odd. Then again, he definitely wasn't turning out to be the person I'd always assumed he was, if he was now part of the Order. Dumbledore said it had been against the wishes of both his father---and Voldemort.

Refusing to follow the expectations of Lucius Malfoy was dangerous; refusing to follow the expectations of Voldemort was a death wish.

At the end of the ball, everyone was sent home by the king; no one wanted to leave. Annamaria, Elizabeth and I gathered in Annamaria's room to compare dance books. Anyone who had their name in any of our books was to be invited, of course, to the next one; but we wanted to see which men our sisters had picked out.

"What did you think of Sir Harold Messier?" Annamaria asked. "In that silly goat costume? I wrote him down." Annamaria had surprised me. Having had only a few seconds to form an opinion of my sisters before the ball, I hadn't expected that Annamaria would be very pleasant. But she, it turned out, was fast becoming my friend.

"I liked him," I offered, remembering, "But I didn't write his name down."

"Why not?" Elizabeth asked. I was discovering Elizabeth was a bit of a snob, and I wasn't taking very well to her. Still, I tried my best to be polite as she added, "He was quite nice---I believe I wrote him down as well." She began thumbing through the pages of her dance-book.

"He was _trying_ to be nice," I replied. "I know everyone was, but it was clear he's not that nice all he time. I couldn't imagine marrying him."

"That's true," Elizabeth agreed. "What did you think of Sir Phillipe Douvent?"

"Was he that man in the shiny blue robe?" I asked, and she nodded.

"I didn't like him at all," Annamaria decided. "I didn't write him down."

"Nor did I," I agreed. "But I don't remember why. There were so many men there, it's hard to keep track. How many men did you each write down?"

"Oh, twenty-five or so," Annamaria replied.

"I have twenty-nine," Elizabeth added, counting.

"Twenty-five and twenty-nine? My," I said, astonished. "I have thirty-six."

"Well, of course you'll have more," Annamaria pointed out. "The men will be far nicer to you---whomever marries you will be King one day, so they will try their hardest to be nice to you. If they can't have you, then they try at Elizabeth, who would take over if you were to die. The youngest Princess is always more of a settlement. If you can't have the eldest, try for the second. If you can't have the second, the youngest will do, because at least she's a Princess. See? They only gain the Prince title if they are to marry Elizabeth or myself, but at least with Elizabeth there's a chance of being King."

"Annamaria," Elizabeth said. "I'm surprised at you. A settlement you are not!"

"No, no," Annamaria said. "But you must admit, these men all think in titles, and hope to gain the highest one they can. They're not happy with simple knighthood, they all want to be Prince---or better yet, King."

"This is true," Elizabeth admitted. "You must think of yourself in higher terms, however, Annamaria. 'Settlement' will never do," she added bossily.

"Yes, I know," Annamaria agreed, and she made the face Harry and Ron sometimes made when they were struggling not to roll their eyes. "Now---what did you think of Sir Luc Tessierre?"

We discussed several more of the men in our books, and even a few that weren't. We'd been talking for over an hour when a knock came on the door. We fell silent, and Annamaria asked, "Who be at my door?"

I'd discovered that when someone knocked on your door, that was the response Princesses were supposed to give. It didn't sound very refined, or royal, but that was how we were meant to answer our doors. It was very odd.

"King Charles Louis Granger," came the reply. That was another thing I'd learned. When you knocked on someone's door and they asked who it was, you had to give your full name, including titles---if you were royalty. If you weren't, you just said 'It is...' and gave your first name. I didn't understand this custom, as I was used to saying things like, "It's me," and "Who do you think?" to Harry and Ron, but that was how it was.

"Enter," Annamaria replied simply, and he opened the door. I noticed Annamaria and Elizabeth didn't incline their heads, so I didn't either. I supposed it was a custom in public, and not at home.

"We had a very good turnout tonight," the king said.

"We did," Elizabeth agreed. "I've never seen so many people in the castle at once."

"Did you enjoy yourselves?" the king asked.

"Yes, Father," we replied.

"Good, good. Now, I know you like to gossip and things, but I shall need to borrow your dance-books tomorrow, if that's all right. We must begin designing invitations for the next ball."

"Ooh," Annamaria said. "When is it?"

"In four days' time," the king replied, "It will be a simple ball, just formal wear this time and no masks, I think. The three of you have two choices in the meantime: you may design your dresses, or you may design the decorations and invitations and things for the ball."

"Ooh, I'd much rather help with the ball," I stated.

"And I," Annamaria decided.

"I'd like to help with my dress, father," Elizabeth decided.

"Well, I can tell you two are worried about how _you_ will look, and not about the hall you dance in," the king teased Annamaria and I. "And now, I take my leave. I must retire before I collapse out of exhaustion." He stood and opened the door, then said, "Good-night, all," and left to a chorus of, "Good-night, Father."

We sat up talking about the men and the ball for a little while longer, until Elizabeth yawned and decided, "We really should retire for the night."

Annamaria and I agreed, and Elizabeth and I left Annamaria in her room and headed to our own.

I went to my room and looked in the mirror one last time. I loved the way this dress made me look---like I really was a Princess, who had an entire country full of men who wanted to marry me.

I saw the reflection of the moon in the mirror, and turned around to see the real thing. I went out on the balcony for awhile and just looked at the stars. They were all that was familiar in this time---the moon and stars.

Sighing, I went back inside and went to bed.

SIR DRACO MALFOY

_OUTDOORS_

There were two things I couldn't get over about the Masquerade ball: one, how beautiful Granger looked; and two, that I'd told her I thought so.

An entire ballroom full of men and women, all there for one reason: to view the faces of the Princesses. Many men were there to attempt to marry one of them, but none of them even knew what the Princesses were like. They could be total bitches, the lot of them, and every man in Europe would still be willing to marry them for the simple reason that it would give them fame.

Humans disgusted me sometimes.

I walked home from the ball that night, taking as long as I could because I wanted to be alone. I walked around through the castle's gardens for awhile, breathing in the scent of a hundred types of flowers. I saw a figure come out onto one of the balconies at the castle out of the corner of my eye and hid behind a bush. I soon smiled, however, as I realized it was Granger.

She still wore her Masquerade costume---as did I. A long, floor-length black dress fitted specifically for her body; it looked fantastic on her. I'd never realized Granger had such a nice body, I thought, grinning. She always wore huge shapeless sweatshirts and jeans, which hid her small frame.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, I had a thought. Would I still be able to use my Animagus form in this time period? After all, Animagi didn't need wands to change forms, and owing to the fact that my wand had vanished when I'd gotten here, I assumed I should still be able to.

Concentrating, I felt my body morph into the body of a small silver dragon-  
--about the size of a dog, though I had a ten-foot wingspan. Excited, I spread my wings and flew back to my home and hid behind some bushes as I changed back into a human. I went inside and wrote a note to Granger, then walked back to the center of the castle's garden and cut a single white rose from one of the many bushes. I changed back into the dragon and flew up to the row of windows and looked in until I saw Granger, asleep in her bed. I left the note on the balcony railing, laying the rose on top of it, and flew home.

I fell asleep hoping she'd agree to what I'd proposed.


	4. Notes

**CHAPTER THREE: NOTES**

PRINCESS MYA GRANGER

_HOME OF KING CHARLES_

The next morning I woke at a knock on my door.

"Who be at my door?" I asked, trying to sound as awake as possible.

"It is Rosalie, my lady," Rosalie's voice answered.

"Enter," I allowed sleepily, and the door opened to reveal Rosalie's bright eyes and rosy cheeks as she poked her head into the room.

She bustled around the room, pulling out my outfit for the day, replacing the book I'd started reading on it's shelf, and finally throwing open the curtains, proclaiming, "It's a beautiful day, you know." She peered out the window, a puzzled look on her normally cheerful face.

"What's wrong?" I asked, sitting up in bed and attempting to tame my hair somewhat so that I didn't look like a space creature.

"Nothing, my lady, it's just you left something on the balcony," she replied, sliding the glass doors open and stepping outside to retrieve whatever it was.

My brows furrowed. I hadn't brought anything outside with me last night. But Rosalie came back inside with a roll of parchment, tied with a green ribbon, and a single white rose---my favorite flower.

"It would appear, my lady," Rosalie said, smiling as she brought the flower and parchment to me, "That one of your admirers took the trouble of climbing the castle wall to get this to you."

"But who?" I asked, taking the parchment from her as she put the rose in a slender vase. But my question was answered when I saw the initials **_DM_** on the outside of the parchment. I slid the ribbon off and opened the scroll. It read:

_**My Dear Princess Mya:**_

**_In the event that this should be read by someone other than yourself, I'll not introduce myself. You know my name already. I was merely wondering if you might consider a truce while we are...in our current situation, shall I say? I was also wondering if you'd like to meet with me before the next ball; of course, that's assuming there is a next one. I'd like to see you, as I'm very curious about the coming (or not coming...?) ball, and I have a few questions I'd like to ask you--that is, if you are able to get away from your many admirers._**

_**Well, in any case, my lady, please leave your response on the balcony railing and I shall pick it up tonight.**_

_**Until next time,**_

_**DM**_

Surprised, I asked Rosalie---who was currently ironing the outfit that I was to wear that day---if I had any parchment and ink.

"Of course, my lady," she said, putting down the iron. "Let me fetch it for you."

"No, no," I replied kindly, getting out of bed. "Just tell me where it is."

"On your writing-table, my lady," she replied, and I crossed the room to the old rolltop writing table. I slid the top open and sat down, pulling a piece of parchment towards me and opening an inkwell. Thinking for a moment, I wrote:

_Dear Sir Draco:_

_A proposal for a truce...now there's something I never thought I'd see from you. Well, thank you very much for the offer--and I'll accept; if not only because I believe I am the first you have offered this opportunity to. And now I have an offer for you: I'll tell you all about the next ball--every detail I can get about it--if you'll tell me how that note got onto my balcony. Unless I'm much mistaken, you'd practically need rock-climbing equipment to scale that wall, and so far as I know, they haven't even invented that yet. I'm deadly curious, because I can't think for the life of me how you did it; so if you'll tell me how that note managed to get onto my balcony, I'll tell you everything I know about the ball. Do we have a deal?_

_Yours Truly,_

_HG_

When Rosalie left, telling me I should get dressed and meet my sisters in the dining hall, I rolled up the note I'd written. I tied it with a smoke-grey ribbon, then went on the balcony and set it on the railing. I looked around, half-expecting Malfoy to show up looking for his response already, then went back inside. I changed into the underdress, then the corset. Then I picked up the dress Rosalie had ironed for me---a plain brown calico dress that I supposed was everyday wear---and put that on too.

Luckily, I'd passed the dining hall on the way to the ballroom the night before, so I located it easily and saw Annamaria sitting at the end of the table---a table that would have seated about fifty. I crossed the room and sat across from her.

"Good morning to you," Annamaria said, looking up from the toast she'd been spreading jam on.

"And to you," I replied politely as a butler placed a plate of food in front of me. "How are you this morning?"

"Wonderful, thank you," she replied, smiling. "It's a lovely day, and we've got horseback riding this afternoon."

I smiled back. "I'd forgotten," I realized, remembering the daily schedule Rosalie left by my bed every morning. Today's had said Breakfast for an hour, then Ball Planning for a few more, then an hour and a half for lunch. After lunch came Horseback Riding for an hour, an hour and a half had been dedicated to Dress Fittings, and then we had dinner.

I was thrilled about the horseback riding---I'd been riding horses since I was six.

Just then, Elizabeth breezed in, seating herself next to Annamaria. "Morning, all," she said carelessly, snapping to the butler to bring her food. "_Dreadful_ afternoon planned for us today, did you see the schedule? Horseback riding...I _do_ hope they'll allow us to sidesaddle, I can't imagine riding like a man while we're wearing dresses...why does Father insist on us riding the terrible beasts?"

Annamaria merely raised her eyebrows and said calmly, "Elizabeth, I think you're just frightened of them. Mya and I have been riding since we were small, and nothing has ever happened to us. You've only been a few times. I know you've only been once, but you'll love it, I promise."

Elizabeth let out a laugh that closely resembled a snort. "Love it? They'll bite you as soon as look at you, horses will..."

"That's not true," I replied, surprised and not enchanted with her attitude. She seemed so...high-and-mighty, and far too girly for my tastes.

She turned her bright blue eyes on me. "What?" she asked quietly, but her voice was irritated, as if she couldn't believe I'd contradicted her.

"Horses are lovely creatures, Elizabeth," I replied. "They're a lot of work---taking care of one, anyway---but they're the kindest things in the world. Unless you make one angry, of course, but what creature won't defend itself when provoked? They're lovely animals. And what's wrong with riding astride a horse? Sidesaddle hardly counts as real horse-riding, in any case; it's not as if you can go very fast."

"Fast?" Elizabeth replied, flabbergasted. "What on earth would possess you to go fast on a horse? Get them more out of control until they throw you off their backs, that's all that will happen if you try. Horses have killed people!"

I laughed. "So have humans," I replied.

"What?"

"You said horses have killed people. That's hardly a valid argument, my dear sister, considering the number of people who have died at the hands of not creatures, but other people. The number of murders committed, whether in war or otherwise, far exceeds the number of people who have been killed by animals," I pointed out.

"Well, forget about that for a moment. How are we expected to ride a horse in a dress?" Elizabeth asked.

I laughed. "You can't," I replied. "Well, it's _possible_, I suppose, but not without your dress either riding up your thighs or ripping down the middle. We'll wear trousers, as we always do."

"_Trousers?_" Elizabeth asked incredulously. "You can't be serious. I never wear trousers. You'll look like men!"

"Who cares?" I asked bluntly.

"_I_ do!" she shouted. "I'm going to find Father and put a stop to _this_ nonsense straightaway!" She snorted. "Trousers! Honestly!" And with that, she stormed out of the dining hall.

Annamaria calmly took a sip of orange juice and said sarcastically, "She took that well."

"Yes," I agreed, rolling my eyes. "Sometimes I think _she's_ the youngest."

Annamaria nodded. "Yes, well," she replied. "It _is_ her first time really riding a horse, while we've been riding them since we were small. She's got her own horse, yet she's never ridden it since she fell off that first time. I don't think she likes knowing that we know how to do something she doesn't."

"You're probably right," I agreed. "Well, it's nearly time for the ball planning to begin. Do you know where that's happening?"

Annamaria nodded. "The front hall, Rosalie said. Shall we go?"

"Sure," I replied, and we both went out into the hall, where several small round tables had been set up, each with some of the staff sitting at them. All were working hard.

"Mary," Annamaria asked a staff member who was walking by with an armful of crafts stuff---ribbons, paint, calligraphy pens and the like, "How can we help?"

Mary looked pleased and pointed to a table. "My lady Mya, you can assist with the decorations, and my lady Annamaria, you can help with the design and writing of the invitations. But I've got to get all these things to that table," she said, gesturing to another table, "and then I've got to get back to the fabrics room, because we've not even picked the color for your dresses as of yet, and we've got only three days left. I must go," she added, and hurried off to drop off the materials.

The morning passed by quickly, mainly because there was so much to do. Then we had lunch, and afterwards Annamaria and I changed into tall boots and trousers in order to go to our horseback riding lesson. Elizabeth hadn't shown up, so we left for the stables without her.

To our surprise, she was there at the stables waiting for us---in a dress. A fancy dress, at that---it looked like she was going to a ball. A pale green silk dress, strappy heels in black, elbow gloves of the same material as the dress, and a black shawl. She sat atop a white horse, with a saddle made specifically for side saddling. Jack, the stable boy, held the bridle of her horse.

"I," she proclaimed in that high-and-mighty voice I was beginning to detest, "will ride like a lady, and I'll have none of this foolishness about _trousers_."

Annamaria shrugged and began attaching a bridle to her horse. "So be it, then, I suppose," she said, and Elizabeth held her head high.

"Lead me over there, if you will, Jack," she said bossily, and Jack led the horse into the paddock.

Annamaria watched in disdain. "If she thinks she's going to ride a horse in _that_ outfit and not get dirty, she's going to learn really fast that she doesn't like horses."

"Amen," I agreed, laughing as I saddled the other horse. I suddenly realized I didn't know my horse's name.

"Annamaria," I said, confused.

"Yes?" she asked, adjusting her horses saddle.

"You remember the morning of the Masquerade Ball, I fell and hit my head? And I said my memory was off for a bit?"

"Yes," she replied, straightening to fix me with a worried gaze.

"Well, occasionally I'll forget something," I admitted, "And won't remember until later, when I don't need to remember anymore."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you all right? What have you forgotten?"

"No, I'm fine, I just can't remember my horse's name."

Annamaria laughed. "Well, you wouldn't, Mya. That's not your memory; she doesn't have one. None of the horses do."

"Why not?" I asked.

Annamaria shrugged and mounted her horse. "I never thought to name him."

I turned to look at my horse, a huge chestnut-colored mare with a white spot on her head.

"Her name is _Perle Noire_, or _Perle_ for short," I decided, swinging my leg over the saddle and seating myself on the horse's back. With that, we both began riding the horses around the paddock.

"How do you know French? Oh," she added, apparently remembering something as we galloped around the edge of the paddock, near the fence. "I keep forgetting it was your first language. You're still fluent?"

"Yes," I replied, thankful I truly was.

"What does it mean?" she asked.

"Black Pearl, or Pearl for short," I replied, still surprised that in this world also, French had been my first language. There were startling similarities between this time and the one I'd left behind.

"How pretty," Annamaria commented. "What should I name him?" she asked, looking at the horse she was riding---a black stallion with a white spot on his head, shaped like a star. We slowed to a canter, then a trot, and finally a slow walk.

"Well, there's a lot of things you can name a black horse. You want them in French or English?" I asked.

"Ooh, French, if you can," Annamaria replied.

"All right, I'll throw them out there and you tell me if you like them or not," I told her.

"Okay," she agreed.

"_Minuit_," I said. "Midnight in English."

Annamaria looked at her horse and tried to fit the name to him. She shook her head.

"Okay," I said. "_Bandit,_" I tried. Though the words were identical, in French it was pronounced "bahn-DEE". I translated it for Annamaria, and she shook her head.

"_Soir Noir,_" I said, then realized it rhymed. "Oh, never mind, that's a terrible one," I said, smiling.

"What did it mean?"

"Black Night," I replied. "How about _Aube?_ It means dawn or daybreak."

"I like dawn, but not _Aube_," Annamaria admitted.

"How about _Lumiere du jour_? It means Light of Day."

"Too long," Annamaria decided.

"Hmm...ooh, I've got a good one," I decided. I looked at her horse, then back at Annamaria, a smile on my face. "_Etoiles,_" I said, then translated: "Starlight."

She smiled at me. "I like that. _Etoiles._ Very pretty. Oh," Annamaria added, seeing Louis leading both an irate Elizabeth and one very pissed-off horse into the stable, "I think we've got to head back to the castle and get cleaned up for lunch."

"All right," I agreed, and we both headed back toward the castle. "What have we got after lunch?"

"Dress fittings, I believe," she replied. "That ought to be quite boring."

"Why?" I asked.

"Oh, yes, I forgot; you spent as little time in there as possible at the last fittings. The head seamstress nearly tucked the waist of your Masquerade dress too far, because you kept leaving. She'll not let you leave this time, she swore it. Really, all the fittings are is standing on a pedestal with a massive piece of cloth hanging off you while they nip and tuck everywhere and pin things together."

"So we get to see what our next ball dresses will look like?"

"Oh, no," Annamaria said, shaking her head as we walked back to the castle. "No, they really only make the design of the dress. They'll never let us see our dresses before the day we wear them. They have us try them on once they're finished, of course, in case they need to adjust them, but you've got to keep your eyes closed for that bit. It's bad luck to see your ball gown before the ball, you know that."

Annamaria and I split up at the top of the stairs to go back to our rooms. I bathed quickly, getting all the dirt and grime out of my hair and off of my skin, then changed into an underdress before realizing I didn't know what I was supposed to wear. I went to my bedroom door and called, "Rosalie?"

She appeared at the end of the hall and came to my door. "Yes, my lady? What is it?"

"I'm sorry, Rosalie, but I can't seem to remember what I'm meant to wear to lunch and the dress fittings."

She smiled. "Well, of course you don't, my lady. It is the servants' job to dress you for all occasions. If I may enter, my lady?"

"Oh," I said. "Yes, please, come in."

Rosalie went to the closet and got out the dreaded corset. "Put this on while I choose your dress, my lady, and I'll pull the strings for you in a minute."

I obediently pulled the corset over my shoulders, adjusted it so that it fit well, and allowed Rosalie to tighten it.

"Now, my lady, I will go get some hair things while you put on your dress," Rosalie said, gesturing to a blue calico dress she'd picked out. With that, she left, closing the door behind her. I'd always been able to change quickly, and I put the dress on as fast as I could---though I couldn't reach the buttons in back. I went out on the balcony to find a note (the initials **_DM_** clearly visible) with another white rose. Smiling, I brought the note back inside and added the rose to the vase with the first one.

The note was short and to the point:

_**My lady,**_

_**If you wish to see me, meet me tonight in the caves at the foot of the mountains. I know you've walked there; I assume you'll recall the largest cave's location? If you can, tie a grey ribbon on the balcony railing and meet me there at midnight; if you can't come, tie a red ribbon to the balcony railing and I'll know to go home.**_

_**Until then, Princess.**_

_**DM**_

He was right; I _had_ walked by the caves at the foot of the nearby mountains. I knew the cave he spoke of; it was secluded, and by no means large; there was hardly enough room to stand. But as it was the largest one, so I decided to go. I took a grey ribbon, went outside, and tied it to the railing; when I went inside, it was to hear Rosalie's knock.

"Are you finished, my lady?" I heard her ask.

"I am," I replied, closing the roll-top desk hurriedly. "But I'm afraid I can't reach the buttons."

Rosalie entered the room and set some hairstyling things down in the bathroom. Then she came and helped me with the buttons before she fixed my hair, taming it and pulling it into large blue combs with elaborate white lace attached.

"You are all set, my lady," she told me.

"Thank you, Rosalie," I replied, and left for lunch.

Lunch was awful. Annamaria and I were getting on well until Elizabeth came storming in, muttering about "dumb beasts" who had "mucked up my favorite dress," and so on. I resisted the urge to say, "I told you so," and Annamaria and I ate in silence.

From lunch, we went to dress fittings. We ended up taking off our dresses and standing on pedestal in our underdresses and corsets. The rest of the day dragged on. Because we weren't allowed to view the actual dress or material, they used starched white cloth that looked like it was the same material as hospital gowns were made of. So we stood on pedestal, with massive amounts of starched white cloth hanging off of us, as six or seven seamstresses pinned, unpinned, adjusted, tucked, and measured the material as they designed the dresses. It took over two hours---longer than expected. I got to move only once---  
apparently there was a train of sorts on my dress, because they asked me to step off the pedestal and walk once around the room so that they could see how it moved. And then I stood on the pedestal for another half an hour, being touched and prodded and poked and asked to stand about nineteen different ways, until they said we could go.

I went back to my room and put the dress that Rosalie had picked out on for dinner.

Dinner was remarkably pleasant---mainly, I suspected, because Elizabeth wasn't in the room for a good portion of it. She came in, ate a salad, then claimed to have caught "a terrible cold from those dreadful beasts" and went back to her room to lie down.

"I think she's taking the horse thing a bit too far," Annamaria admitted to us.

"She just doesn't like the animals, that's all," Father replied, helping himself to more food.

"Yes, Father, but she wore a ball gown to go horseback riding, after we told her that she should wear tall boots and trousers. Father, she was more concerned with looking good than practicality."

"Yes, Annamaria," Father replied. "But propriety is very important. One day you two will realize that."

"But Father, the paddock is fenced in!" I protested. "No one sees us when we ride."

"And we _do_ understand propriety," Annamaria insisted, "it's only that it isn't very important to us."

Father regarded us fondly, though he wore an exasperated expression. "Maybe it should be," he replied simply. "You must realize that whatever you might think of propriety, it _is_ important. It determines your social standing."

"We're Princesses!" I burst out. "What more do we need?"

He looked at me sternly. "You, Hermione, will be Queen one day. I would wish for you to be more concerned with propriety than you currently are. This lack of caring disturbs me."

"It's _not _a 'lack of caring,' " I objected. "I'm merely pointing out that whoever I end up marrying should love me for who I am, and not because I'm the eldest daughter of King Charles."

Annamaria laughed. "It would be nice, I agree, but you'll never find a decent man like that."

"I'll tell you what, Annamaria," I told her. "I'll find a man like that, just to prove you wrong."

Annamaria smiled. "If you can find a man like that and you don't want him, I'll take him," she told me, starting to laugh. Father also began chuckling, his big belly shaking.

"Sure, Annamaria," I replied, laughing as well. "I'll put him in a box with masses of ribbons on it and hand him over to be your husband, all right?"

"Thank you," she answered, grinning. "You've spared me the trouble of finding one for myself."

"Not until I find one, I haven't," I replied, smiling at the thought. "And that's only if I don't want to marry him myself."

"That's true," she replied, still giggling at the absurdity of the conversation.

"Well, I've got my work cut out for me, then," I said. "All I've got to do is find a man who loves me that doesn't care about being King."

"Easy," Annamaria agreed.

"Well, before you begin your task," Father said, smiling, "You both need a good night's sleep. Off with you!"

When I returned to my room, I bathed and changed into my trousers, realizing as I pulled them on that they were the only clothing I had that wasn't a dress. I also put on the tall boots, then waited until the castle was dark and silent. At ten to midnight, I went onto the balcony---and took to the sky.


	5. Animagi

**CHAPTER FOUR: ANIMAGI**

SIR DRACO MALFOY

_THE CAVE_

I flew past the castle at quarter of midnight, noting the grey ribbon tied on the railing, then continued past it, on to the caves. I had left my home early, so that I could be there---in human form---before she saw me as a dragon. But I got a surprise when I reached the cave; a creature that looked like a human---but who had a twenty-foot wingspan, claws, and fangs. And that wasn't even to mention the fact that the human body and face had been turned a greyish-white, the body incredibly muscled. (**A/N:** **Think of Dracula's brides in _Van Helsing _when they're in their vampire forms.**) Surprised, I nearly turned around and went back home.

But the creature, minus the fangs, wings, claws and strange coloring, looked remarkably like Granger.

So I flew into the cave, dragon form and all, and watched her change back into Granger, her claws and fangs shrinking as her wings folded and melted seamlessly into her back. The last thing to return was her skin color, changing from ghastly pale to her normal complexion. Then she turned and saw a silver dragon, and she froze. I looked her right in the eye and changed back into myself, never breaking eye contact.

Once in my human form, I gave her a small smile and said, "Well, now we know something about one another. Are you a vampire?"

She just looked at me for a moment. "No," she replied. "I really only wanted to be able to sprout wings that would carry me without changing into an animal, and that form was the closest I could get. So I get the fangs and claws and light-up eyes with the wings. But it's worth it."

"Light-up eyes?" I asked.

"Yeah. When I'm in that form and I feel evil, happy, angry---just about anything extreme--my eyes turn this bright gold-yellow color. It's quite scary to watch, but I've gotten used to it," she replied. "So what about you? Why a dragon?"

"Well, besides the fact that they're my favorite animal in the world, my name means dragon in Latin," I replied.

"It's also the name of a star," she replied.

"What is?"

"Your name," she replied. "Draco."

"I didn't know that," I admitted. "That's pretty cool."

"So," she replied. "I imagine this is how you got that note onto my balcony, no?"

"Yes. Is there a reason you're in tall boots and trousers?"

"Yes," she replied shortly.

"And what would that be?" I asked. Catching the odd look from her I added, "I'm just curious, I'm not out to get you or anything." I laughed. "You look slightly pissed."

"I am," she replied, "Just not at you. The fact is, these are the only clothes I currently own that isn't a dress. I mean, my day clothes---what they call 'work clothes,' despite the fact that I'm not allowed to work---are just calico dresses. The kind of thing I'd consider fancy."

"You'd consider _calico_ fancy?" I asked, surprised. My mother never wore anything except dresses in public; calico was the stuff she wore when she was washing dishes, mopping floors, cooking dinner---household stuff.

"I consider any kind of skirt or dress fancy," she admitted.

"Wow," I replied simply. "I think you're the first girl I've ever met who doesn't know the different types of dresses to wear in different occasions."

"I hate dresses," she muttered. "And skirts. Oh, and heels, of course, but only because I can't walk in them. I found out three days ago that when a dress has a big skirt, it's made by putting masses of netting stuff underneath. It makes it puffy. Did you know that?"

"It's called tulle," I replied, grinning at her baffled expression. "Courtesy of Pansy Parkinson, I know just about everything there is to know about dress styles. She took me dress shopping once when we were in Hogsmeade," I added when she looked at me funny. "And what was the look for?"

She laughed. "I'd tell you, but you'd probably hate me forever."

"And that would be a new thing because...?" I teased.

"That's true," she agreed. "I thought you were going to say, 'Courtesy of Pansy Parkinson, I know what's underneath dresses.' I was about to say, thanks, Malfoy, I _definitely_ didn't need that information, thanks so very much."

"You think I'd go around bragging that I'd slept with Pansy Parkinson?" I asked incredulously.

"Like you wouldn't? Be serious."

"I wouldn't. I plan to stay a virgin until I graduate."

"You're a virgin?" Granger asked, and I could hear the surprise in her voice. What, did she think I was some kind of man-whore who was so horny he couldn't keep his pants zipped?

"Yes," I replied honestly. "Thanks so much for the implication, Granger."

She shrugged. "Sorry."

"Are you?" I asked, and when she gave me a sharp look I shrugged. "Sorry if it's a personal question, but I answered it for you and I figured you might award me the same honor."

"Yes, I am."

"Cool."

She raised an eyebrow, but didn't bother commenting. "So what do you want to know about the ball?" she asked. "Now that we're both out here and talking about things we shouldn't really be talking about."

"Everything you know. What's wrong with talking about sex?"

"Well, 'everything I know' doesn't amount to much. But we're in the age where they believe in witches and devils and goblins and the like, and talking about sex or drugs is a definite no-no."

"So what information _do_ you have for me?" he asked. "And there's no one around to hear us talking about sex."

She rolled her eyes at that. "Yeah, Malfoy, so since there's no one around, by all means talk about it at the top of your voice. You know, if I ever get mad at you, I could fly to your house and pretend you kidnapped me."

"You wouldn't do that."

"And why not?"

"Because you think I'm handsome," I mocked her, giving her a smile that dozens of girls at Hogwarts would have died to see.

Oddly, Granger wasn't affected. I'd have to try harder.

Instead, she laughed. "Yeah, handsome and a complete idiot when it comes to chat-up lines."

"Was that a chat-up line?"

She smiled. She had a nice smile. "I hope not. It was horrible."

"Well, I'll have to try harder."

She laughed again. "And why would you even bother trying to chat me up? In case you'd forgotten, my dear Toto, we're not exactly in Kansas anymore."

"Well," I replied, "No, but we _are_ on earth, at least. And at the moment, we are the only witch and wizard on this planet. So I figure I might as well get a girlfriend while I'm here."

"How perfectly, disgustingly male of you," she answered, though without malice. "Though if you really wanted me as your girlfriend, you'd have tried back at Hogwarts. Everyone knows I spend my evenings in the library, Bozo. You want me to fall in love with you, you'll have to try a little harder than that."

"Like you wouldn't hex me as soon as I tried seducing you," I replied.

"_Seducing_ me? That's going a bit far," she answered. "Why in God's name you'd sleep with me is questionable."

"Don't put yourself down, Granger," I replied. "I'd probably sleep with you if you and I were dating."

She rolled her eyes. "Right," she replied. "Am I supposed to be _thankful_? Oh, thanks so much, Malfoy, for telling me you'd be willing to sleep with me if we were dating. Thanks, I feel _so_ loved and wanted. Now I feel so much better."

"Granger, I didn't mean it like that," I tried. "It might sound crude, but I was commenting on the fact that you have a really nice body, actually."

"Oh, right," she said, nodding. "Because of course you'd _love_ my body. Considering you've seen _so_ much of it and the fact that I've got bona fide _mudblood_," she spat the word, "blood in my veins. Oh yes, Malfoy. I'm sure you just love it."

"Calm down, Granger," I said quietly. "I must ask you to remember that I am a member of the Order now, and so am on your side."

She stared at me, then sank to the floor. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I have no right to hate you anymore."

I went to her side, though I didn't dare touch her. "No, Granger," I said, "You hate me all you want, if it makes you feel better. I deserve it, really," I added, knowing it was true.

She looked up at me sharply. "No, you don't. You don't deserve it anymore. You did before, let's admit it, but by joining the Order, I consider you---well, pardoned, for everything you've done in the past. That alone was such a dangerous leap of faith...I just think you ought to be forgiven for all the little things in recognition of that."

I stared at her, looked right into her eyes. "If I wasn't afraid you'd take it the wrong way, I'd kiss you right now," I said softly. "That's one of the nicest things anyone's ever said to me. Thank you."

She looked into my eyes for a long moment, then stood. "Well," she said quietly, sitting down on a rock near the back of the cave. "What do you want to know about the ball?"

I went and sat near her. "Well, for starters, am I even invited?" I asked.

"Why, do you have a crush on a Princess, Malfoy?" she teased, joking.

I regarded her carefully. "Maybe," I replied evasively.

"Annamaria or Elizabeth?" she asked, grinning.

I looked away. "Am I invited or not?"

"Yes," she replied.

I looked up, smiling. "How do you know?"

"Because Annamaria, Elizabeth and I decide who gets invited and who doesn't."

"How are you supposed to do that? You can't possibly remember all those names, Granger. I know you're smart, but no one's _that_ smart," I declared.

"No, no. We each carry a dance-book---"

"A what?"

She smiled. "You know how, in the olden days, women who went to balls carried a tiny little book with them?"

"No," I answered, just to be difficult. But she continued anyway.

"Well, they did," she informed me. "And if they were dancing with someone, and another guy came up and asked them to dance, they'd promise them the next dance. And they'd write his name in their dance-book. When the song was over, they went and found the man whose name was next in their dance-book. They did it because they'd have six or seven dances lined up in the space of one dance."

"Okay," I replied. I was still puzzled, but I held my tongue.

"Well, my sisters and I each carried one of those at the Masquerade, and anyone who we enjoyed dancing with, we write the name of the person down. If their name is in any one of our dance-books, they're invited to the next ball."

"Cool," I said. "Just out of curiosity, Princess, whose dance book was I in?"

"Mine," she answered. "Though I think Annamaria wrote you down too."

"Not Elizabeth?"

"I don't think so," she replied.

"Why did you write me down?" I asked.

She shrugged. "A lot of reasons. For one thing, like I said, you can't possibly be the Draco Malfoy I thought you were if you defied both your father and Voldemort---", I flinched at that, "---and joined the Order. I thought I'd give you a second chance---you know, a chance to _not_ be the asshole I thought you were. For another, I figured if we're stuck here together, we might as well have a truce at least, maybe even get to be friends, and how was I supposed to suggest either unless I saw you again?"

"Well, if we're stuck here and we never see each other, then there's no point in calling a truce anyway, is there?" I asked.

"Not really, but I thought it would be nice to see each other every now and again," she admitted. "After all, we're the only witch and wizard here, the only ones from the future. We could become friends, don't you think? You can't tell me all these customs and 'fancy' speech don't confuse you every once in a while."

"Yeah," I admitted. "It's a little weird, being a knight. And you being a princess and everything."

"You're telling _me_," she agreed.

"How did you know what to do on stage the other day? How to talk and all?"

She grinned. "A lot of guessing and a bit of copying, actually. I had no idea what I was doing, but whatever it was I did, I'm guessing it was right, because no one died of shock or anything."

I laughed. "I don't know," I replied. "There were a lot of guys there who almost did."

"Uh-oh," she answered, worried. "Why?"

"The expectations were really high. The real thing was far more than anyone expected."

"Expectations for what?" she asked, bewildered.

"The Princess' beauty," I replied, grinning.

"Personally, I think Annamaria is prettier than Elizabeth, but it's close," she decided. "They're both very pretty."

"And where do you fall on the 'pretty' scale?" I asked.

She gave me a surprised look and laughed. "Are you kidding? Next to them, I'm not even _on_ the 'pretty' scale."

"Are _you_ kidding?" I replied. "Half the guys in that room would have been willing to chop off their arms and legs, kill their first-born child, and drown their horses if they got to dance with you first."

She laughed gently. "Of course," she replied. "Whoever marries me gets to be king. Why _wouldn't_ they be willing to drown their horses in exchange for the rule of France?"

"We're in France?" I asked.

"I think so. There were some people in the crowd speaking French, and about ninety-eight percent of the last names of the people I danced with were French: Messier, Bordeaux, Tessierre, Terrill, Douvent, all kinds of things. Nearly all the last names were French, and a good half of the first names, too."

"Well. Good to know what country we're in," I replied.

"Yes, I suppose it is. Where's your house?" she asked. "I'm just curious. I haven't seen any houses yet. In fact," she added thoughtfully, "I've only been out of the castle a few times, and I've never even seen the gardens."

"Ah, a true Princess," I said blandly. "Too lazy to explore her own yard."

She swatted me for that. "Just for that, you're not invited to the ball."

"You said Annamaria wrote my name down too."

"I'll tell her you grabbed my ass when you were leaving. She'll cross you out, trust me."

"No fair," I replied.

"It is too fair. I have to choose a husband. It's my ball, not yours. And my father's the king. He'd have you beheaded if you actually had grabbed my ass."

"Well, I didn't, so I can keep my head, thanks."

"Maybe I'll accuse you anyway," she replied, her eyes shining prettily as she teased me.

"Ooh, that's cold," I teased back. "A cold-hearted, cold-blooded killer, you are, Princess."

She grimaced. "Don't call me Princess."

"How come?" I asked. "You can call me 'Sir Draco'."

"I'm not a princess, Malfoy. I'm Hermione Granger, school know-it-all, grade-A bookworm."

"Well, in this time period, you're a Princess," I replied seriously. "And I'm going to award you with the title. If you've got a title, that's what people refer to you as. It's common courtesy."

"But I don't _want_ you to award me with the title," she replied. "And I'm sorry---I'd use yours, but I can never remember to. You're still Malfoy to me."

"You don't want me to call you Princess?" I asked. When she shook her head vehemently, I shrugged. "All the more reason to do you the favor of using it," I decided.

"I hate you," she replied easily, but without malice.

"I hate you too, Princess," I replied, grinning widely at her. In response, she glared at me. I just shrugged and, just to annoy her, started whistling, thinking over what she'd said. She went silent as well, and we both just sat, looking out the cave entrance.

_"Do you have a crush on a Princess, Malfoy?" _

_"Maybe."_

_"Annamaria or Elizabeth?"_

_"Half the guys in that room would have been willing to chop off their arms and legs, kill their first-born child, and drown their horses if they got to dance with you first."_

_"Whoever marries me gets to be king. Why wouldn't they be willing to drown their horses in exchange for the rule of France?"_

_"And where do you fall on the 'pretty' scale?" _

_"Are you kidding? Next to them, I'm not even on the 'pretty' scale."_

_"I'm not a princess, Malfoy. I'm Hermione Granger, school know-it-all, grade-A bookworm."_

This girl, far from being someone I hated, now completely amazed me. She had absolutely no perception of herself whatsoever; all her descriptions of herself were things that I had said to her in years past, mocking her.

Yet she said it as if it were fact, and not like she was trying to make me feel bad. Something she knew was a cruel taunt, but something she'd long ago accepted as the general opinion of herself. And she didn't care.

She assumed everyone thought she was an ugly, nosy, bossy bookworm with nothing better to do with her time than homework, and she didn't care.

PRINCESS MYA GRANGER

_THE CAVE_

When I finally broke the silence with a, "Well," it was to find Malfoy staring at me in complete wonder.

"Do me a favor," I said, startling him out of his thoughts. His eyes focused on my face.

"Sure."

"Don't ever, ever look at me with that expression on your face again."

"What expression?"

"I don't know what to call it, but I've seen Harry and Ron and half the other boys in Gryffindor do the same one. It's the face they do whenever they see a pretty girl, and it completely and utterly freaks me out when anyone looks at me that way."

"How do you know I didn't see a pretty girl?"

I sighed. "Don't play with me, Malfoy."

"Hey, hey, hey," he objected. "You wanted a truce, right?"

"I think we've pretty much established one if we've danced together and talk to each other and we're not killing each other yet, but yes. What about it?" I asked, nearly sighing again.

"Don't you think a truce should start with calling each other by our first names?" he suggested.

"What, you want me to call you Draco? Fine."

"Say that again."

"Say _what_ again?" I asked warily.

"Say 'Draco' again," he ordered.

"Draco," I repeated obediently.

"Thank you," he said, apparently satisfied. I shrugged and let it go. I decided I really didn't need or want to know.

"Well, Princess---"

"Hey, no fair. I said your first name, you can say mine," I objected.

"Fine, Mya. Anyway, would you like to go for a walk? I know you haven't been in the castle gardens yet---they're really nice."

"Really?" I asked, surprised.

"Yeah," he replied, smiling almost shyly at me.

"I'd like that," I decided, and he led me over to the cave entrance and held out his arm to me. Laughing a little, I took it, and he gave me a tour of the gardens of my own home.

It was really nice out; there was a full moon out, so the grounds were well-lit. We talked as we toured the gardens, about everything.

"When do you think we'll be able to go back to our own time?" I asked.

He grinned. "I don't really want to."

"What?" I asked, surprised.

"I'd like to stay here, in this time," he replied honestly. "I like it here."

"Well, I do too, Draco, but what about your friends and family? Wouldn't you miss them?"

He laughed. "Considering that anyone at Hogwarts worth being friends with hates my guts and my father wants to kill me? I really don't think I'd miss them, no."

"Why do they hate your guts?"

"Because I was cruel to them at some point, I should imagine."

"Well, that was stupid of you," I decided. "Why'd you do that if you wanted to be friends with them?"

"Because at the time, I was going through a phase where I wanted to be a little carbon-copy of Lucius. So I was cruel to everyone, assumed the Dark Lord was the greatest thing going, made friends with people from DE families, and made my daddy happy," Draco replied, bitterness flooding his last words.

"DE families? What are those?"

"Oh---you see that? That's another thing I got from my father. The terminology they use. DE stands for Death Eater. And I've never called the Dark Lord by his name, either. Dumbledore tells me I should, but I just haven't gotten up the courage yet."

I stopped walking, pulled Draco around to face me. I got right up in his face and said, "_Voldemort_." He flinched. "Say it," I ordered. "Right now."

"No, Mya. Leave it alone."

"Say it, Draco. There's no one around to hear you. And in this time, five million people could hear you and it wouldn't make the slightest difference. _Say_ it. You tell me you're afraid of Voldemort. Do you want that fear to go away?" I demanded.

"Of course I do," he replied.

"Then _say_ it, goddamn you. Say it. _Voldemort._ It's not a hard word, Draco. Say it."

"Kiss me."

SIR DRACO MALFOY

_GARDEN OF KING CHARLES_

I could tell I'd taken her by surprise. She stared at me as if she'd never seen me in her life and didn't answer for a long time. When she finally did, all that came out was, "_What_?"

"Kiss me," I repeated. "Kiss me and I'll say it."

"Draco Malfoy," she replied sternly. "Do _not_ play with me. I'm serious. Say it, right now."

"I'll say his name if you'll kiss me first."

"Mal---Draco, we both know you don't really want me to kiss you. Ha ha ha, very funny joke. Now stop trying to get out of it. I _will_ hear you say 'Voldemort' before the night is over."

"And you'll kiss me before the night is over," I replied, grinning broadly. She sighed, rolled her eyes, and continued walking. I stepped forward and put her arm through mine again, surprising her, but she didn't say anything as we walked along together.

"Malfoy---"

"_Draco_," I corrected her.

"No," she disagreed. "It's 'Malfoy' until you say it. But---I think Dumbledore did something to us when we left. We _hated_ each other, couldn't stand to be in the same room, and know we're laughing and talking and dancing and...being friendly? I don't think so. He messed with our heads."

"I thought Dumbledore was Mr.-Do-Good," I replied dryly.

"Do _not_ mock Albus Dumbledore," she replied fiercely. "He's the greatest wizard alive, and he could kill you with the snap of his fingers."

"So could the Dark Lord," I pointed out, just to bug her.

"Yeah, and look who's running from who," she sneered, waving that away with a hand. "Have you ever seen Dumbledore fight? You've never seen anything scarier."

"I wouldn't count on that, Hermione," I said under my breath. Then, realizing what I'd said, I closed my mouth, lifted my chin and squared my shoulders.

"And now your defenses are back up," she said quietly.

"Defenses?" I asked.

"Don't you play dumb," she ordered. "You know _exactly_ what I mean. Everyone has them; but everyone's are different. We both know that your snobby, 'I'm in Slytherin, I'm a pureblood and a Malfoy' attitude---all the smirking and cruel jokes and put-downs---it's all an act. Those are your defenses---and if anyone gets past them, you wound them in the only way you know how---with your words. Which you're quite good at," I admitted. "You come up with insults for every situation; sometimes you remind me of Snape."

"I should think so; he raised me."

"_What?_"

"Yes, Granger. Snape-the-bastard _does_ have a life outside Hogwarts and work for the Order. Yes, he's more my father than Lucius ever was."

"Oh," she said, sounding small. When I looked at her, I was surprised to find eyes still filled with sympathy. I looked away, not wanting to see it. I hated it when people pitied me.

"Don't feel sorry for me," I said.

"And why shouldn't I?"

"Because I can't stand pity. I hate it."

"So you make everyone else hate you. So they can't get close enough to pity you." She sighed. "One hell of a defense system, I must admit."

"Well, I wouldn't be talking, Miss I've-got-to-go-to-the-library."

She flushed. "What's wrong with going to the library?"

"Nothing," I answered. "But it's also how you defend yourself."

She released my arm. "You think I'm a coward," she stated softly, clearly not as an accusation, but a statement of fact.

"No," I contradicted. "Why would I think that?"

"You think my defenses are more run-and-hide than stand-up-and-fight, don't you?" she asked, her eyes down.

"No," I answered. Without quite knowing or caring why, I reached out and cupped her chin, gently turning her face back up towards mine. "I just think you defend yourself against things a lot better and a lot more often than people think."

She smiled gently. "Thank you," she replied. "I really appreciate that."

"You're very welcome," I replied, smiling. I looped my arm through hers again---I felt this undeniable need to be touching her---and we continued walking for awhile in silence. Finally Hermione spoke.

"Well, Mal---Draco," she said, catching herself before she called me Malfoy, "this has been a lot of fun, but I think I'd better get back inside before anyone notices I'm gone."

"All right, Princess," I replied, grinning when she glared at me. "Will you meet me again tomorrow night?"

"Okay," she agreed.

"Ten thirty by the bench in the center of the garden?"

"I'll be there."

"All right, then, Mya. I'll see you tomorrow. Until then," he said, "enjoy yourself."

"I will. Goodnight, _Sir _Draco."

"Goodnight, _Princess_," I replied evilly. She glared at me, but there was a smile on her face---a face that was changing white.

Her transformation was quite pretty, really; her skin paled to the color of the moon as her three-inch claws sprouted from her fingertips, and her wings unfurled from her back. She smiled at me, and I watched as her canines stretched into inchlong fangs.

"Your eyes aren't lighting up," I told her.

_Make me angry, then,_ she replied, but he voice was in my head and her lips weren't moving. The voice I heard was hers, but it also held a dangerous edge.

"Telepathy? Are you serious?" I asked warily.

_Yeah,_ her voice replied in my mind. _Cool, huh?_

"Very. You sound dangerous."

_And I don't normally? Thanks a lot, _she replied, smiling and showing her fangs again

"You? You're an innocent, naive Gryffindor. What could possibly make _you_ dangerous?"

I watched as her eyes suddenly glowed gold, and she looked like she wanted to eat me. "Whoa," I said, taking a step back. "You look hungry."

_Starving,_ she replied, then laughed---and her laughter, too, was in my head---when I looked panicky. _No, I'm only joking. But I'd better go._

"Okay. Goodbye, then," I replied, and she nodded. She spread her wings and flew off, up to the castle and onto her balcony. Once on the balcony, I watched as she assumed her human form and waved to me before going inside.

"Until next time," I said to no one.


	6. The Studio

**CHAPTER FIVE: THE STUDIO**

**PRINCESS MYA GRANGER**

_CASTLE OF KING CHARLES_

I woke the next morning to see sunlight streaming through my windows and Rosalie setting the day's schedule on my bedside table.

"Ugh," I groaned. "Is it morning already?"

"Yes, my lady," Rosalie answered, smiling. "And such a beautiful morning it is, my lady, that you shall not want to sleep any longer once you see the sun."

"Mmph," I mumbled.

"Come, my lady. Let me take you to the window."

Rosalie practically had to drag me from the bed to get me to stand up. She led me over to the window, where the room-darkening curtains had been tied back but the sheer white curtains remained closed. I drew them aside, blinking as the bright sun hit my eyes.

"Well," I said. "It certainly is a very nice day out. What have I got planned today, Rosalie?"

"Not very much outdoors, I'm afraid," she replied. "But you've got studio time this afternoon."

"Studio?"

"The art room, my lady? It is where you usually spend your free time."

"Oh yes, of course," I said, pretending like I remembered. I was excited, though. I'd be allowed to paint and draw just like I did in my time. No one in my time knew about my art; it would be a nice change not having to hide it.

I spent the day helping decorate the main hall and the ballroom---after all, the ball was in two days---and then going to more dress fittings. That night before dinner, I wandered around the castle until I found a room whose door had _Studio_ carved into it. Slowly I pushed the door open.

The room was fantastic for a studio---and, I noticed, it was a near replica of the studio in Hogwarts, where I spent most of my free time(which was the main reason no one could ever find me, as everyone assumed I would be in the library.) I liked to sketch people, but often I'd sketched ghosts---which were really difficult---or, even more often, I'd sketched other people in the studio. Therefore, almost all of my art was of people standing at easels with a paintbrush in hand. I'd always wanted to do something different; maybe I could convince one of the maids or someone to pose for me.

I looked around, noicing there were paintings, sketches, and clay sculptures all over the room: on the walls; lying on tables; covering every flat surface; hanging from the ceiling; still on easels; and leaning against the legs of tables and chairs alike. I walked around, looking at all of them and noticing that they were mostly landscapes. Several were drawn through the windows of the studio; one was drawn through the ceiling. Only three were of people, and they were all of myself. Self-portraits, I noticed; they all bore my signature, a scrolling capital H with a small cursive g; the tail of the g curled around the horizontal line of the H.

I had one sketch, in my time, of Fred and George Weasley---which I'd managed to get solely because they'd both been asleep, and there had been no one else in the common room. Sketching them, I'd realized minor things about them that told them apart---a freckle here, an old scar there---and ever since, I'd been able to tell who was who. It had always frustrated them; I smiled at the memory.

I set up an easel, then started drawing---but from memory this time. I thought of Harry and Ron; of the time I'd found them in the library, sitting across from one another, using their books as pillows as they slept, Ron's red hair mingling with Harry's dark hair. As I thought of them, my hand began moving, forming two human shapes, hunched over a flat table covered in stacks of books. I left their faces blank and moved instead to the hands: Harry's were pulled in, close to his face, still holding the side of a page as though he'd been about to turn it; Ron's were sprawled across the table, one of them flopping off the end of the table in it's attempt to stretch further.

The door of the studio opened; I ignored it, working steadily. Annamaria came in quietly, and didn't say a word; she merely walked around and viewed the other art in the room. I began working on Harry and Ron's faces, closing my eyes occasionally to remember their expressions.

Annamaria came behind me, watched me draw.

"Who are they?" she said quietly.

"Harry and Ron," I said slowly, adding faint shadows beneath Harry's eyes---those ever-present shadows that made you realize that there was more to Harry than met the eye.

"Are they---real?"

I paused thoughtfully. "No," I said softly. "No, they're just a memory."

Annamaria nodded, as if that made sense, then moved a painting to sit in a nearby chair.

"We missed you at dinner," Annamaria said quietly after a long silence. "Father was wondering if you were sick; I told him I'd look for you. I thought I'd find you here."

I smiled, never taking my eyes off the drawing; I scanned it for oddities, imperfections even as I said, "I lost track of time."

"As you are so wont to do," Annamaria agreed. "Father doesn't understand your talent."

"He doesn't have to," I replied, stepping back to admire my work. "He just needs to allow it."

"So he does, Mya."

Glancing at the drawing for a final time, I placed my pencil and charcoal on the nearby table and looked at Annamaria, who was watching me.

"What?" I asked.

"I also needed to find you," she said, "Because I checked your balcony, to see if you were there, and this was on the railing." She held out a note with another white rose. I knew who it was from before I even saw the initials on the scroll.

_**Mya,**_

_**Did you know knights practice dueling daily? I had to duel my sword-servant (that's what he calls himself) this morning--and I was suddenly really glad I got fencing lessons when I was younger. Can you imagine the great Sir Draco, defeated by his own servant in a fake duel? I'd be a laughingstock.**_

_**See you tonight.**_

_**DM**_

I looked up, smiling, at Annamaria. She was looking at me, a little teasing grin on her face.

"Have you got an admirer?" she asked, grinning.

"No," I replied quickly. "He's a---friend."

"Good gracious, Mya, if you could see how red your face has turned! Redder than a cherry, you are. Who is he?" She asked eagerly, laughing slightly.

"His name is Sir Draco," I said, smiling indulgently, "And I'll not tell you more, because you'd only tease."

"Oh, come, Mya. I wouldn't tease you."

"Yes, you most certainly would. Annamaria, my dear, I love you; but I also know you well, and upon hearing that I have a---friend---you'd tease me about him. I know you would, there's no use denying such a fact."

"Is he but a friend?" Annamaria asked, her grin widening, "Or might he be a suitor, come to steal your heart away?"

"Annamaria," I said sternly, a small smile on my face. "I'll not tell you."

"All right, Mya," she replied, sighing. "As you will."

"What time is it?" I asked.

"It's---ten thirty, I believe. Why do you ask?"

"Ten thirty!" I said, surprised. I was due to meet Draco. I composed myself quickly, saying to Annamaria, "Wow. I didn't realize it was so late. I'd better get to bed---and you should, too."

"That's true," she agreed. "Well, I shall see you in the morning. We've got final dress fittings tomorrow."

I groaned.

"I know," she laughed. "Well, anyway, I wish you a good night."

"And you," I answered. "Sleep well."

The moment Annamaria left, I ran to the window, transformed, and flew out to the garden.

**DRACO MALFOY**

_GARDEN OF KING CHARLES_

That night at ten-thirty, I waited at the bench. I sat there for five minutes; I started thinking maybe I'd told Hermione the wrong time. I looked up at the sky just as she flew past overhead. She landed behind me, and I turned to watch her transform to human again: her face darkened to pale brown and her eyes returned to normal; her wings curled into her back and her claws retracted to form fingernails.

"Hi," I said blankly, watching as her fangs shrunk back into teeth.

"Hi," she said breathlessly. "Sorry I'm late."

"You're wearing a dress," I commented, grinning. "Since when do you wear dresses?"

"Since I was painting and I lost track of time. By the time I realised what time it was, I didn't have time to change. Oh, and my trousers haven't been washed yet, either," she replied, looking at her blue calico work dress in distaste.

"Cool," I replied, then offered her my arm. "Want to walk?"

"Sure," she said, taking my arm as she had last night, and we walked around the garden for awhile, going in a circle so that we ended up back where we started. After some time, she said, "Malfoy, say it."

"Say what?" I asked, bewildered.

"Voldemort," she replied, watching as I flinched. She released my arm as I stopped walking. "Why do you fear his name so?"

"Because he's the most evil creature that has ever existed," I said quietly. "Have you ever faced him, Mya?"

"Not directly," she replied gently as we sat on the nearby bench. "Harry has, of course, but every time he meets him, he tells people less and less about what happened."

"I don't blame him. The Dark Lord...he's---evil," I said with difficulty. "You've got no idea---when you're near him, you can _feel_ the evil. It's like...you sense it. It's there inside him, and he'll never be able to get it out. It's like he's glowing---a glow all around him that you can just sense. Like an invisible light...a vibe, I suppose. You just know, no matter what form he's in, that there is not a good bone in his body. He is completely consumed by evil---he thrives on it."

I felt Hermione shudder beside me, and instinctively wrapped my arms around her, sliding my hands down her bare arms.

"Cold?" I asked.

She offered me a small, shy smile. "Not anymore," she replied.

"Good," I replied, and pulled her towards me so her back was against my chest. She turned to look at me; our faces were just inches apart. She smelled of cinnamon.

"Draco," Hermione said quietly, "Can I ask you a favor?"

"Of course," I replied, enjoying how close she was to me.

"Could I sketch you?"

I was silent for a moment, surprised. "I didn't know you drew."

"I love drawing," she answered quietly. "And painting, sculpting, and any other form of art on the planet."

"Oh," I replied, surprised. "Well, sure, I suppose. What for?"

"I don't know. Just---when you're an artist, you get this sense of people and places; and sometimes, those people or places just grab you and you suddenly feel like drawing them. It's weird, I know," she told me, "but it happens to me all the time."

I was quiet for a long time, and Hermione looked at me again, our faces close.

"A penny for your thoughts," she said.

I just sat there for a moment, looking at her and thinking how beautiful she was, then said, "I was just wondering why it feels like I just got a glimpse of your soul."

She smiled at me, a slow grin that made me want to kiss her for its charm, and said simply, "Maybe because you probably did."

"How?"

Her smile widened, and she searched my face---for what, I didn't know, but I allowed her to do it anyway because I liked it when she looked at me. "Because I told you about my art and how I sense things. I've never told anyone about that before."

"Really? No one?" I asked. "What about Ron and Harry?"

"Never," she told me, looking at the moon. "They know about my art, but only because they found me painting in the school's art studio once."

"Have you ever drawn people?"

"Only when they're asleep or from pictures," she replied. "Fred and George fell asleep in the common room once, and I painted them. And Harry and Ron fell asleep at the library. But sometimes, if I really want to paint someone, I get Colin Creevey to take pictures---no, don't laugh, he really is a fantastic photographer---and then I borrow them and paint from them."

"That's crazy," I decided, and she raised an eyebrow at the outburst.

"What is?"

"That you felt like you had to hide your art from everyone. Why'd you hide it? You love doing it; if I had to hide things I loved I'd go crazy from the injustice of it."

She smiled again. "I didn't feel like I _had_ to," she replied, thinking. "It was more like I didn't want to see people's reactions to it. I'm one of those people who just can't stand critisism; so, by hiding my art, I felt like there was less for people to make fun of me for. I don't know," she said finally. "It doesn't make much sense, but my art is the one thing I do that's for _me_. My grades are for my parents; the over-achieving is for my teachers; reading so much is for strangers so they think I'm smart---"

"Which you are," I interrupted, but she ignored me.

"I don't know...everything I do is really done _for_ someone, and one day I realized that I needed something that could be mine, something that no one else really even needed to know about. Just...an escape. _My_ escape."

I was silent for a moment, then said simply, "Wow."

"Yeah. You know what's weird?" she asked suddenly.

"Besides everything, you mean?" I replied.

"Yeah, besides that," she answered, smiling. "What's weird is that we're actually getting along."

"That is pretty weird," I agreed.

There was a long silence, in which we both thought about our current situation. "What's going to happen when we go back to Hogwarts?" Hermione asked finally.

"I don't know," I replied honestly.

"I don't either," Hermione answered. "I mean, will we go back to hating one another? Will we be friends? It's all so strange."

"That it is," I replied. "If someone had told me two weeks ago that in a week and a half I'd be sitting on a bench in some medieval garden with my arms around Hermione Granger, I probably would have either asked them what their IQ was or punched them in the face."

"You wouldn't have punched them," Hermione decided.

"No?"

"No. You'd be cruel. Hurt them with words, taunt them in the hallways, turn Slytherin House against them, get Pansy or someone to start a rumor about them maybe. You're not the physical-fight type; and if I'd known that during first year, I never would have allowed Harry and Ron to meet you in the trophy room for your so-called duel. I know you were only trying to get them caught, but I should have realized that challenging someone like that wasn't the type of thing you'd do to get revenge."

"No, it wasn't. It was funny, though."

"It was _not_. Don't be a jerk; you almost got them kicked out of Hogwarts," she pointed out.

"I did not; they heard Filch before he could catch them. That's the thing with Filch; he's so confident he'll find someone that he talks to himself while he's looking."

We talked for a long time; at least two hours. I was discovering just how much I enjoyed Hermione Granger's company.

"I'd better go," Hermione said suddenly. "I've got final dress fittings early tomorrow, and the ball's the day after. By the way, have you gotten your invitation yet?"

"Just this morning," I replied. "It's odd; you'd think they'd give you more notice."

"Yeah," Hermione said. "This ball's different, thank god; we choose who we dance with, and we don't have to dance with everyone if we don't want to. All we're doing tonight is crossing more names off."

"Are you going to cross me out now that we've made a truce, Mya?" I asked.

"Do you want to be crossed off?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course not."

"Well, then it depends on whether you're nice to me," she replied, grinning. "But I really should go. Annamaria already thinks I'm dating someone, and she found one of your notes, so she assumes I'm dating you. If I wake up looking tired tomorrow, god only knows what she'll think I've been doing with you."

I grinned teasingly. "What _have_ you been doing?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Goodnight, Draco."

"Meet me again tomorrow?"

"Ten thirty, center bench?"

"Yeah."

"I'll be there," she promised. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Mya," I replied as she transformed, and I watched as she flew back to the castle. She stayed in her Animagi form long enough to say, _Thanks for listening_. I waved, and she returned the gesture before heading inside.

**A/N: I know, I know, it's terribly annoying of me to leave you with that. But I found a good stopping point, and I think at this point, adding to it would take away from the chapter. So there's a nice, boring glimpse at my thoughts, in case you care :P **

**I also have a few notes:**

**From now on, point-of-view changes will be in bold; I think the story's easier to follow that way. I will fix earlier chapters eventually, but I'm being incredibly lazy right now and really only wanted to put this chapter up. **

**I hate to beg for reviews, because whenever someone asks _me_ for one it sounds like they're desperate, but please review. It's the highlight of my day, seeing new reviews---mainly because I'm grounded for the summer and I don't have any other highlights. But in all seriousness, I would rather get twenty reviews saying "this sucks" than none at all. Any feedback---  
good or bad---is appreciated. Just something to keep in mind.**

**As I mentioned, I'm grounded for the entire summer. Technically I'm not even supposed to be on the computer, so it will be a little difficult to update. I can manage it, but if it takes longer than expected or I suddenly stop updating, it means I either can't get on or I got caught using the computer. However, I am _not_ restricted from my laptop (which is what I write everything on) because I bought it with my own money, so if I can't update, just know that I'm still working on this fanfic. In any case, I hope you enjoy. **

**THIS IS IMPORTANT: I recently posted the first three chapters of another fanfic of mine. It's called "Shall We Dance?" and it's a Hermione/Sirius pairing; which sounds gross, but she went back in time (yes, I like time-travel) and they're the same age. She goes back, becomes friends with the Marauders, the whole thing. Anyway, read it and let me know what you think!**

**Thanks for reading, and please review!**


	7. Maskless

**A/N---To all my readers: I am so sorry this chapter took so long. I had a lot of stuff going on and for about a week and a half I forgot my fanfiction password, and couldn't log in. However, I still feel terrible that a few of my readers lost hope. I hope you haven't given up on me completely (especially Marauder Angel, a loyal reader), because here's the next chapter and I'm nearly done with Chapter Seven as well. Again, my apologies for making you wait. I hope you can all forgive me. I hope you enjoy---and please review!**

**CHAPTER SIX: MASKLESS**

**PRINCESS MYA GRANGER**

_HOME OF KING CHARLES_

I woke up the next morning when Rosalie knocked on the door.

"My lady, there is much to be done today," she told me as she entered the room. "You must get up, my lady. Final preparations for the ball are today, and the ball is this night."

"Is it?" I asked teasingly, grinning. "I'd forgotten."

Rosalie laughed. "Come, my lady, get up. Here is your dress," she told me, placing a neatly ironed and folded dress at my feet, "and His Highness expects to see you in the throne room as soon as you are dressed."

_His Highness?_ I thought. Then, _Oh, King Charles_.

"I'll leave you to get dressed," Rosalie said as I sat up in bed and picked up the dress.

"Rosalie," I said, bewildered. She stopped and turned in the doorway.

"Yes, my lady?"

"This isn't a calico dress. Why am I wearing a nice dress today?"

"You are expected by His Highness, as are your sisters," she replied. "You are expected to greet suitors today."

"Ah," I said.

"I take my lave, my lady," Rosalie said, and closed the door behind her.

I dressed quickly---or as quickly as it's possible to put on a corset and dress by yourself---then went into Annamaria's room.

"Annamaria," I said, "What does Rosalie mean by 'greet your suitors'?"

Annamaria looked up from the mirror, in front of which she'd been applying a thin dark line around her eyes. "Oh," she replied. "She just means that some of the men from the ball wish to meet us."

"But isn't that what the ball tonight is for?" I asked. "I assumed the Masquerade ball was the quick decision, and then this one was a more...in-depth meeting."

"It is," Annamaria replied. "But these suitors are all royalty, and are not just knights. Princes and Kings and the like."

"I see," I replied.

"It's terribly boring," Annamaria informed me. "Mostly they sit around and try to impress Father. Most of them think that if Father likes them, he'll force us to marry them. Little do they know, Father would never dream of doing such a thing."

"That's terrible!" I exclaimed.

"That's men," Annamaria corrected, smiling. "Well, shall we go?"

"If we must," I replied, sighing.

"We must," Annamaria assured me. "Otherwise, I wouldn't be going either."

**SIR DRACO MALFOY**

_HOME OF SIR DRACO_

I was bored.

Which was kind of odd, considering the past few days had kept me busy. However, the moment that there wasn't anything to do, I was bored. I didn't even have swordfighting to amuse myself today; the sword-servant was sick or something. The only thing I had planned, according to Dora, was the ball this evening.

Worse, I couldn't stop thinking about a certain brown-eyed girl in tall boots and trousers. She wouldn't get out of my head. I couldn't figure it out. I thought of her eyes, her hair, her body, her voice, her laugh, her smile...

_Stop it, Draco,_ I told myself. _You will not fall for her._

But it's Mya, a sweet and funny and beautiful and wonderful girl, and she likes me...

_She's a Gryffindor!_

Like I care.

_She's a muggle-born._

Whoa. Full stop, Draco. Had I just thought that? As if her blood mattered to me anymore? Man. I'd have to thank Lucius next time I saw him for royally screwing up my views on life. Once a Death Eater's son, always a Death Eater's son.

Yeah, right. More like once an _asshole_, always an _asshole._

_It's Granger!_

Ah. That helped clear my head.

_Think of her as Granger, not Mya._

But I like calling her Mya. It lets me pretend she's...mine.

_She's not yours._

But I _want_ her to be!

Well, there it was. Plain and simple. I wanted Hermione Granger to be mine.

And being a Malfoy, I'd never been denied anything I wanted.

**PRINCESS MYA GRANGER**

_CASTLE OF KING CHARLES_

Meeting the suitors wasn't as boring as I'd expected. Basically, they came into the throne room, where Elizabeth, Annamaria and I were, and walk once around the room with whatever Princess they wanted to marry, talking to us and trying to impress us. King Charles, who sat on his throne, then asked them to leave.

It was boring at first, but then I actually started taking an interest in the men coming through the door.

A man came in the door at that moment; the first thing that struck me was that he exactly fit the description "tall, dark, and handsome." Everything about him was dark; black eyes, deep brown hair, tanned skin. He was tall, a good few inches taller than me, and handsome to the extreme. Totally inappropriately, I thought to myself, _I wish Ginny were here; he's got a nice body_._ She'd appreciate this._

And then, of course, I remembered that I wasn't in the twenty-first century anymore and pulled myself together, hoping this dark stranger was here for me but knowing, with some deep-seated certainty, that he wasn't.

The man knelt just inside the doorway, as all the suitors had done. "May I approach, Your Highness?" he asked, and his voice was deep. He spoke quietly, respectfully, and bowed his head.

"You may," King Charles replied, and the man approached me. I nearly smiled in surprise that he'd chosen me; I managed to catch myself and curtsied instead, a long, sweeping motion that he watched with interest.

"I am Princess Mya," I told him, as I had all the others, though it was hardly neccesary considering he already knew who I was.

He bowed low. "I am Prince Kevin," he replied. "Eldest Prince of Spain."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," I told him.

"And you as well," he answered. "Well, shall we?" he asked, offering me his arm.

_"Would you like to go for a walk? I know you haven't been in the castle gardens yet---they're really nice," Draco told me._

_"Really?" I asked, surprised._

_"Yeah," he replied, smiling almost shyly at me._

_"I'd like that," I decided, and he led me over to the cave entrance and held out his arm to me. Laughing a little, I took it._

I shook my head slightly to clear it, then took Prince Kevin's arm and began to walk with him.

"If I may say so," he said, "You are absolutely beautiful."

"Thank you," I replied. "You're quite handsome yourself."

"Thank you," he replied, smiling. His smile dazzled me; the white of his teeth against the tan of his skin was such a sharp contrast that, quite frankly, it rendered me speechless. He had a gorgeous smile.

_Hermione, you're attracted to him,_ I told myself in surprise.

Well, it could have been worse. At least he wasn't a servant or anything.

"My lady," he said, but I stopped him.

"Please," I said, "Call me Mya."

He looked surprised, but replied, "Then I am Kevin to you."

"All right," I agreed.

"Mya, I will be attending the ball this night. I wonder...would you honor me with your first dance of the evening?"

I smiled. "I will," I told him.

"Next suitor," King Charles boomed from his throne, and Elizabeth, Annamaria and I all released the arms of our suitors.

"Until tonight, then," Kevin said, bowing. I curtsied, and the three suitors left. Kevin, however, stopped in the doorway and turned to catch my eye one more time before leaving. Then, at King Charles' cleared throat, he turned and closed the door behind him.

"How many more suitors do we have, Father?" Elizabeth asked

"Hermione has twelve, you have three and Annamaria has eight," King Charles replied.

"Why so few for me, Father?" Elizabeth asked.

"It's the horses' fault," Annamaria whispered in my ear, and I stifled a snort of laughter as King Charles comforted Elizabeth.

With this knowledge, Elizabeth realized that she didn't have her pick of royalty as she'd thought. She therefore greeted her next suitor with so much enthusiasm that he ended up leaving much more quickly than he might normally have done.

I managed not to burst out laughing at my sister's actions, but it was a close thing.

When we'd met all the suitors---all the Princes and even two young Kings---it was time for dinner. The entire meal, thanks to Elizabeth, was spent discussing the reason for Elizabeth's lack of suitors. I was sorely tempted to say something along the lines of, "The reason no one wants to marry you is because you're a snobby bitch," but I didn't dare.

It was odd; when I'd first come here I hadn't considered either Elizabeth my sisters, because I didn't have any sisters in my time. It was possible I'd get some, what with my father passing away and my mother finally remarrying, but as of yet I remained an only child. But I'd come to consider Annamaria a sister; even a friend. Elizabeth, on the other hand, remained a snobby little bitch in my mind. Frankly, she seemed like a combination of Pansy Parkinson and Rita Skeeter.

Neither of which endeared her to me.

I sighed.

"Mya," Annamaria said, and I looked up, startled.

"Yes?"

"It's time to get ready for the ball."

I stared. "But it's not for two hours more," I objected. "I'd planned on painting for awhile."

"There's much to do, Hermione. We've got to go and get our dresses on," Elizabeth told me. "Come on, hurry now."

I looked at Annamaria, who was standing just behind Elizabeth. She crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue at a totally oblivious Elizabeth. I laughed, standing, and Elizabeth crossed her arms, tapping her foot with impatience.

"I fail to see what is so funny, Hermione," she informed me.

"Oh, do you want to? Find a mirror," I replied flatly.

I headed up to the fitting rooms where our dresses waited with Annamaria's laughter ringing in my ears and Elizabeth's baffled face pasted in my mind.

**SIR DRACO MALFOY**

_HOME OF SIR DRACO_

Dora came into my room at eight o'clock that evening with a small pile of neatly folded clothes.

"What's this?" I asked blankly.

"Your tuxedo for the ball, my good sir," Dora replied, bowing slightly and placing the pile on my bed.

"Oh, right," I said. "When is it again?"

"Half before nine o'clock," Dora replied.

Eight thirty. Good. I had just enough time to get ready and fly over.

Dora left the room and I changed quickly into the tuxedo. I didn't feel like wearing the bow tie, so I stuffed it in my pocket and unbuttoned the top two buttons of my shirt. Then I made sure no one was around, transformed, and flew to the castle, where I landed behind a boulder near the pond in the front garden. Then I simply stepped out from behind the boulder and joined the rest of the women and the men who were pushing towards the door.

A woman finally opened the door---a servant, judging from her clothes.

"All right, ladies and gentleman," she said, smiling, and swung the door open wide. She sent two men who didn't have invitations home, then allowed the rest of us inside. The men pushed and shouldered their way past other men and women in order to get inside; there wasn't really any point in it, however, because the hall was empty.

The hall had been beautifully decorated---not that it needed it; in my opinion, the hall was beautiful enough on it's own not to need decoration---but it remained empty save for them men and women who'd just arrived and the woman who had opened the door.

"Refreshments are on the table over there," the woman said, pointing to a table piled high with food across the room. "The servant's chambers are to your left, so knock if you need anything."

"What's your name?" I asked kindly, and she looked surprised.

"Rosalie," she said quietly, honoring me with a curtsy.

I bowed. "Sir Draco," I replied.

"Pleasure to meet you, good sir," she answered, and curtsied again before running off.

"What, going after the maids now, are ya?" said one of the other men, and several men laughed.

"Just being polite," I replied smoothly.

"Think you're big, introducing yourself to servants, do you?"

"No," I replied. "As I've said, I was only being polite."

And then they all left me alone, for a door in the front of the room had opened. The women went to stand in the back of the room, for they were really only there to keep the rest of the men dancing while the Princesses chose men.

The youngest Princess stepped into the room. She wore a beautiful dress in pale blue, the skirt of which was swept out as she curtsied. The men promptly bowed; I imitated them, then looked up as Elizabeth, the middle child, flounced into the room in a dress of light pink. Many of the men rolled their eyes as they bowed; apparently there wasn't much of a demand for Elizabeth's hand in marriage.

And then came Mya, in a dress of deep, royal blue. The bodice was tight to the waist, where it flared out to the floor. It seemed to me that she glided into the room, as her feet were surrounded by her dress. Gracefully, her hands clasped the skirt of her dress and swept it outwards as she lowered herself into a curtsy. All of the men bowed in response.

After Mya came King Charles himself, for which all of the men went down to one knee as his daughters inclined their heads.

"Rise, rise, gentlemen," he said cheerfully, and we all did so. "For you are here not for myself, but at the request of one or more of my daughters. Therefore, in my view, you are worthy of standing while in the presence of royalty. Among all of the other men, you gentlemen are the ones whom my daughters chose. Dance! Eat! And gentlemen, above all, enjoy yourselves."

With that, King Charles left the room as the music began.

I tried to get to the front of the room so that Mya could see me, but she wasn't even looking. She went straight into the arms of a dark-haired guy near the front, smiling as if she knew him already. She curtsied for him; he bowed. I was standing watching in jealousy when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see a small blonde woman behind me, who was at least old enough to be my mother, if not my grandmother. I smiled anyway.

"Yes?" I asked politely.

"Would you like to dance?" she asked.

"I'd love to," I replied, and bowed.

The music got louder then, and everyone began dancing, each pair slowly revolving around the room. I tried to steer my dance partner towards Mya, but could only get a glimpse of her.

They were very close to one another. Their noses were just short of touching, and he looked as if he was about to kiss her.

And then some bloody fool danced between Mya and myself, blocking my view.

They were probably kissing by now, I thought jealously. he was probably going to take her into the garden after the ball and make out with her and touch her and---

_She's mine!_

But she wasn't. And she didn't seem like she ever would be, if I didn't get her now.

The moment the dance ended and everyone was picking partners, I ran over to where she'd been dancing before, hoping to grab the next dance with her. She was still standing very close to the dark-haired guy, and they both looked reluctant to let go. And then they did, and I moved forward to ask her to dance, but she was already heading into the arms of some forty-year-old fart with a bald patch and glasses, looking slightly revolted that a man old enough to be her father wanted to marry her.

Looking good. Now if only she'd keep that horrified expression on her face while she was looking at that bastard she'd been dancing with earlier...

I quickly asked the woman closest to Mya to dance, and she accepted. I was so keen on getting near Mya that I almost forgot to bow for my dance partner as the music started.

But, as luck would have it, the old fart was an enthusiastic dancer who bounced around the dance floor so fast that I simply couldn't keep up with them. I lost Mya to the crowd within the first twelve seconds of the dance.

This pattern, to my irritation, continued for nearly the entire ball. I couldn't get near her; and every time I did, she was either with someone already or accepting an invitation to dance.

I didn't get near her until the end of the ball, when the last song of the night began playing. As fast as I could, I ran up to Mya and bowed to her. She didn't even look at my face as she curtsied, and so gasped when she finally did.

"Dr---Sir Draco!" she said, aware that several men were standing near us, listening. "Have you been avoiding dancing with me? Only it's the last song and I haven't seen you once this evening."

I took her in my arms as the crowd of men dispersed, off to find dance partners. "As a matter of fact, I haven't," I replied. I didn't bother telling her that I'd been obsessively noting every man she seemed even remotely interested in. "How's a bloke to get near you? You've got so many men after you, I'm thankful I've even gotten to be in the same room."

Her face was flushed from all the dancing; she smiled shyly. "I'm terribly sorry," she replied.

"That's quite all right," I replied. "At least I've managed to grab a dance with you at last."

And then we just danced, and it felt so right to me that I didn't ever want to let her go.

**PRINCESS MYA GRANGER**

_CASTLE OF KING CHARLES_

"So," Draco said after a long moment of silence, "Who was that bloke you were dancing with at the beginning of the ball?"

I replied with a breathless laugh. "Which one?"

"The first one," he replied, looking around at the other dancers as we talked. "The very first dance."

"Oh," I replied, "That's Kevin; I met him earlier today, and I promised him the first dance of the ball."

"Kevin, huh?" Draco replied, a distant look in his eyes.

I eyed him carefully. "Something wrong?"

He started slightly and pasted a smile on his face. "Nope, everything's great," he replied, never looking me in the eye as he spoke. He was starting to worry me; he was acting strangely. I saw him hesitate, then he looked down; not at me, but almost..._through_ me, as if I weren't standing in front of him.

"Look," he said. "Am I allowed to take you outside?"

"Yes," I replied, searching his eyes for some explanation of his behavior. There wasn't one.

"Good," he replied. "You want to go sit outside for a minute?"

I tilted my head to the side, completely mystified at his behavior. The Draco I knew was full of dry wit, sarcasm, pride and arrogance. The young man in front of me was uncomfortable, anxious, and nervous. In fact, he was making _me_ nervous.

"Of course," I replied.

He took my hand and pulled me gently through the crowd, shielding me from other dancers with his body as we went. When we got outside, he wrapped my hand around his arm and began walking. I allowed him to lead me around for awhile, then asked, "Draco, what's this all about? Why are you acting so strangely?"

Draco looked at me then, looked right in my eyes, and I saw an emotion I'd never seen there before: love.

I was stunned.

"It's all your fault," Draco mumbled, looking at his feet. I stopped walking and just watched him.

"What is?"

"Me, acting like this. Like a stupid Hufflepuff," he told me, looking across the moonlit pond.

"There, that sounds like the Draco Malfoy I know," I told him, smiling a little.

He looked back at me, looking deep into my eyes.

"I---" he began, then sighed. He looked at my dress, then said, "You're beautiful."

I hadn't felt self-conscious about my outfit until that moment. Now I hugged my waist with my arms, suddenly very aware of the low neckline and tight bodice of the dress. It wasn't like he was staring---well, he was, but not at the dress.

He was staring into my eyes. He shook his head slightly, never taking his eyes off me, and stepped closer. I swallowed as he took my hands in his and pulled my arms away from my waist.

"Are you afraid of me, Mya?" he whispered, and his voice gave me chills---but in a good way. I felt a vacuuming sensation in the pit of my stomach as I looked up at him.

"No," I replied softly, and he smiled.

"Good," he replied.

And then Draco Malfoy, pureblooded Slytherin Prince, leaned down and kissed me.

**SIR DRACO MALFOY**

_GARDEN OF KING CHARLES_

I didn't know what had come over me, but I had just kissed her. Kissed Mya.

No kiss had ever felt so right in my entire life.

When I pulled away, she looked at me and said, "What was that for?"

I laughed. "For being beautiful and sweet and funny and for not hating me, and for a million other reasons that I can't tell you because I haven't put a name to them yet."

She looked at me for a long time, and I was scared that she was going to slap me or run away or scream, "Off with his head!" or something along those lines.

She didn't do any of those things. She put her hands on either side of my face, pulled my face down to hers, and kissed me.

In that moment, as I felt my heart soar and I kissed her back, I knew I was in trouble when it came to Miss Hermione Granger.

**A/N: Ah, the moment we've all been waiting for: the kiss. Short-lived happiness, I'm afraid...but that's all I'm saying about it. Hope you enjoyed; I should have Chapter Seven up in a week or so, probably less. Thanks for reading and please review!**

**blackxhole21**


	8. Role Reversal

**A/N: Wow, I got a great response for that last chapter! I was so overjoyed to find you hadn't all given up on me---and so happy that you'd all reviewed to tell me so---that I went a little nuts and wrote another two chapters in record time (for me, that is.) Thanks so much for reading, and keep up the reviews---they make me want to write more. : ) Chapter Eight should be up in a week or so.**

**CHAPTER SEVEN: ROLE REVERSAL**

**SIR DRACO MALFOY**

_GARDEN OF KING CHARLES_

When Mya and I broke apart, she gasped.

"What?" I asked, alarmed. Her eyes were fixed on a point beyond my left shoulder. She didn't look scared, just bewildered.

"What is that?" she asked. I released my hold on her, then turned to see what she was looking at.

And then I saw it. A swirling black mass, streaked with white and adorned with silver stars which shone in the moonlight like glass in the sun.

"It looks like that thing behind the door at Dumbledore's office," Mya breathed. "Do you think that's the time portal?"

"Oh," I said, surprised. I'd nearly forgotten we'd be going back to our own time. "Probably," I admitted, disappointed.

"Don't worry, Draco," she said sympathetically, as if she'd read my mind. "We're not going home yet."

"Oh no?"

"No," she replied. "Don't you remember? Dumbledore said we'll probably get bounced around in time before we get back to our own. He said that in each time period, we should find the time portal and keep using it until we get back to our time."

"Oh," I said, relief making my shoulders relax. "Well," I said, "Shall we go through, then?"

"All right," she replied, and we headed towards it.

Just before we stepped into it, I took Mya's hand.

"Promise we'll find each other, wherever we end up," I told her.

She looked at me. "I promise," she said, giving my hand a squeeze, and we stepped through the portal.

I felt a falling sensation and then...

Everything faded away and my vision went black, and after that I knew no more.

**HERMIONE GRANGER**

_LOCATION UNKNOWN_

There was sudden darkness after we stepped through the time portal, just as there had been the first time.

This time, when I woke up, I found I wasn't alone. In fact, I was in a makeshift bed made of hay and ticking that laid on the floor in a row of others.

The other beds, I soon realized, were full of sleeping women. All of us wore the thin, soft, and faded fabric of slaves---not very well-taken-care-of slaves, by the looks of it. Most of the women had cuts on their faces and arms; several had bruises and makeshift bandages.

There was a window a few feet away; the only window in the small room. I looked into it, searching my reflection for recognition.

My long hair, still the length it had been when I was a Princess, was wrapped into a tight braid that hung down my back; my eyes were the same; but I also sported a thin, inchlong scar that slashed across my left cheek. I was startled, but the scar made me think of Harry.

I looked past my reflection to see a large lawn, fenced in, leading up to a castle.

This castle, however, did not give the impression of warmth and cleanliness that King Charles' had. No, this castle was sinister, frightening, and dark. It was taller than it was wide, with tall, thin turrets stretching into the clouds.

One of the other women stirred in her sleep. I quickly returned to my own bed, not wanting the others to notice that I was awake, but I wasn't there for long. Almost as soon as I laid down, a loud bell sounded from outside, like an old-fashioned church bell.

I thought at the time that it was a pleasant sound. I would soon learn to hate it.

At the sound of the bell, every single woman was awake and on her feet, taking turns at the window to braid their hair and change into day clothes. I found a simple dress, neatly folded, on the floor beside my bed, and quickly changed with the others.

Then, in single file, they began to line up; there seemed to be some order they lined up in.

"Um, sorry," I said to one of the other women, "But I fell and hit my head last night, and I can't remember a thing. Could you tell me what's going on?"

"Oh, Hermione, you poor thing. All right, we don't have much time, so I'll just give you the basics. I'm Katrina, also known as 81029. We've all got numbers, and we line up by number. You're just after me, 81030. Our Master calls us by number, so memorize it quick. Every day when that bell rings, get up and get dressed, and we line up and go outside. Then our Master inspects us, making sure we all look alike, then sends us off to work. You'll have to listen to him for that, we never know what we're doing until he tells us."

"Who is---our Master?" I asked uneasily.

"No one knows his name," Katrina replied, shrugging. "He's terrible. You're the youngest slave, and you've only been here with us for two days. The rest of us have been here a year or more, but he's starting to get more people. Oh---" Katrina quickly pulled me into line as the girl at the head of the line opened the door. "All right, now, what's your number?" she asked.

"81030?" I asked, and she nodded.

"Good," she told me. "We're all going to go outside and stand in a line. If he asks for you, take a step forward and kneel until he tells you to rise. Always respond with 'Yes, Master,' or 'No, Master.' Don't ever look anyone except other slaves in the eye; if you look him or anyone else in the eye in his presence, you get in trouble."

I swallowed. "What kind of trouble?"

At that moment, we left the room and were suddenly blinded by bright sunlight; Katrina stopped speaking at once and looked down. I did the same, looking at the bottom of Katrina's dress.

Then we stopped walking and everyone turned to the right; I did also. I saw a man's feet, but didn't dare look into his face.

"Guess what?" he asked, walking down the line in front of each of us. "I won't be picking someone today."

I glanced over at Katrina. She said under her breath, so quiet I could barely hear her, "He chooses one person a day who doesn't have to do work outside. You get to work indoors instead. No one knows why."

"Why isn't he picking one today?" I asked quietly, but Katrina shook her head slightly as the Master came towards us.

"All of you head inside," he commanded, and all of them women exchanged incredulous looks as we walked up to the castle.

When we got inside, Master stopped walking. The slaves re-formed the line.

"I've got a guest coming for dinner," Master told us. "You're helping the slaves inside prepare for him. Got it?"

"Yes, Master," we replied quietly.

He led us to the kitchen, then shoved them all inside, one by one. They all landed on the floor, hard, and no one moved once they'd been pushed. They just laid there. None of the slaves in the room reacted to their presence. He didn't shove me; on the contrary, he grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the door, and I knew I was expected to stay there,

"Get to work," he told the slaves on the floor, and closed the door. I stood stock-still and didn't say a word as he turned to me.

"What's your name?" he asked.

I didn't look up. "Hermione, Master," I replied quietly.

I heard the slap before I felt it; I heard the smacking sound of skin hitting skin and then I was on the floor, my cheek stinging.

"Get up," he growled. I got uneasily to my feet, but didn't look at him. I kept my head bowed, refusing to touch my smarting cheek. I knew it would bruise; I could feel it.

"Your name," he said, so close to my face that I could feel his breath on my cheek, "doesn't exist anymore. You are 81030. You have no name, no family, and no friends. You exist to serve me and make my life comfortable. Don't ever get smart with me again. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Master," I replied.

He spat in my face; I flinched. He didn't say anything more, just opened the door to the kitchen and shoved me inside, sending me sprawling on the floor. I didn't move until I'd heard the door shut behind me, then crawled shakily to my knees, wiping my face on my sleeve.

All of the slaves in the room waited for a few moments, as if listening. And then it was as if someone had flipped a switch; they all put down whatever they were doing and came to help me up and see if I was all right, introducing themselves and asking my name.

"I'm George," one of the men said.

"I'm Ashley," said a woman.

"Harriet," said another.

"Lily," said a third, and I looked into a pair of bright green eyes. I nearly stopped breathing. I knew it wasn't Lily Evans, but the combination of the name and the eyes startled the hell out of me.

The rest of the slaves introduced themselves. Then all of them dispersed.

Harriet led me over to a counter which held a large pile of potatoes.

"We get the fun job," she said sarcastically, laughing. "We've got to peel the potatoes."

"Oh," I said, surprised. "All right."

She handed me a knife, and the two of us attacked the pile with a vengeance.

"So you're new, are you?" Harriet asked.

"Yes," I replied, exceedingly grateful that I'd been assigned something as easy as potato-peeling. I wasn't sure how to do half the things the others were doing.

"He wasn't too mean, was he?"

I shuddered, but refused to be weak. "No, he just asked me my name."

"You didn't tell him your real one?" Harriet asked nervously, and I nodded. "Oh, no. What did he do?"

"Just told me not to get smart," I replied. "It was fine."

Harriet looked at me as though she didn't believe me. "You're lying."

"Yes."

She looked surprised that I'd admitted it. "Your cheek's beginning to bruise. How hard did he hit you?"

"Not hard."

"You're lying again."

"Yes."

Harriet smiled slightly. "At least you're a good liar. It's a useful gift, especially in this house. I never was any good at it. Well, welcome to Master's Palace."

"Thanks," I said. "Where is 'Master's Palace', anyway?"

"No idea," Harriet said, shrugging. "We were brought here in a carriage with no windows."

"Interesting," I said, curling the knife around the vegetable in my hand. "That's very interesting."

**DRACO MALFOY**

_LOCATION UNKNOWN_

When the darkness dissipated, I was in a bed---just as I had been the first time I'd time-traveled. This one wasn't nearly so large or so comfortable as my previous one, but it was a nice bed nevertheless. I didn't open my eyes, just thought for a moment. I'd made a promise before I'd stepped through the time portal. I'd promised to find her.

"Mya," I said, then realized I'd said it aloud.

"You're awake!" said a voice. "Christ, took you long enough. Need anything?"

"Water," I replied, then opened my eyes to see a guy---maybe a year or so younger than me---with curly blond hair carrying a wooden mug of water towards me. He sat on the edge of my bed and handed it to me, grinning.

"You think you'll live?" he asked.

"Who are you?" I asked, handing him the empty mug. He stood and went to get more, shaking his head.

"I'm Tristan," he replied, then called to someone outside the room. "Katherine! He can't remember anything."

A woman came into the room; she reminded me of Mya, with her long curly hair, but it was blonde instead of brown and she wasn't as pretty. "Of course he can't," she replied.

Tristan laughed. I sat up, trying to make sense of the world, but suddenly got dizzy and held a hand to my head.

The woman called Katherine sat down where Tristan had vacated and pushed me back into a lying position. "Lie still, brother," she told me. "Your skull's taken a good knock."

"I've noticed," I replied, rubbing my forehead.

"Leave it, Dragon," she said, smacking my hand away from the wound and picking up a basket sitting near my bed.

"Dragon?" I asked.

"Oh---that's the name we used to call you when we were little, because Draco means dragon in Latin."

"Ah," I replied. I hadn't known that.

"Tristan, bring me some water, would you?" Katherine asked.

"Anything for you," he replied with a grin. He filled another mug with water and brought it to her; she immediately dumped some greenish powder into it, followed by a pinch of tiny shredded leaves. She swirled the contents with a twig that had been stripped of bark, then handed it to me.

"Here," she said. "It should help with the pain."

"Thank you," I replied, my vision hazy. "But who are you two?"

"That there's Tristan, your brother," she replied, gesturing to Tristan. "And I'm Katherine, your sister."

"Who's older?" I asked, looking between them.

"I am," she replied, "By three and a half minutes."

"And it shows," Tristan added. "She's more mature."

"No...that's because I'm female, not because I'm older," she replied sweetly.

"Hey!" both Tristan and I said at the same time. She just smiled.

"So you're twins, then," I said thoughtfully, looking between them. It was easy to believe; if Katherine cut her hair and Tristan shaved, their faces would be identical.

"Yes," Katherine answered, directing a laughing scowl in his direction, "which means I can't even claim we're not related."

"I love you, too," he replied, returning the scowl.

I laughed. "How was I injured, then?" I asked. "I suppose I 'took a fall off'n that horse of mine', did I?" I added under my breath, but neither Katherine nor Tristan heard me.

"You were feeding the horses when one of them got stung by a bee and went wild. He reared up and bashed you right in the head," Tristan informed me.

"I'm beginning to really hate those animals," I grumbled.

Katherine pursed her lips. "You've got a lovely bruise."

"Yeah, right in the shape of a horseshoe," Tristan laughed.

Katherine picked up a muddy boot that sat near my bed and chucked it at him. "It is not," she replied. "And if you keep on bothering him, I'll get Father to come and remove you."

"Sorry, I couldn't resist," Tristan replied, ducking as the boot flew by his head.

Katherine laughed. "Though I don't suppose you tried," she answered.

Tristan grinned in response. I decided I quite liked these two.

"Anyway, you're in Father's house."

"What's 'Father's' name?" I asked.

"Lucius Malfoy," she replied.

_Wow, couldn't have guessed that one._ I scowled.

"Now," Katherine said. "Tristan, I suppose you'll have to go with him to his meeting today. It's an important one, and if Draco doesn't have his memory back by then, you'll have to speak for him."

"All right," Tristan said, suddenly becoming the responsible youngest child. "We should tell Father."

Katherine stood, then suddenly bent down to me again as Tristan left the room.

"You'd better prepare yourself for meeting this man," Katherine whispered to me. "I've heard he's more evil than Satan himself."

With that, she left the room, leaving me to wonder what the hell Dumbledore was thinking.

**HERMIONE GRANGER**

_'MASTER'S PALACE'_

The knife I was using to cut vegetables was both incredibly shiny and incredibly sharp.

I'd already sliced my thumb open, but I'd managed to wrap it before it bled anywhere. Had I been in the magical world, it would have required a Healer. In the muggle world, it'd have required stitches.

Which wasn't a happy thought.

I noticed as I was cutting carrots that I could see the reflection of my hand on the knife. It was as clear as a mirror. I picked it up off the cutting board and turned it to see my face. It was dirty; I had a bruise on my cheek from where Master had hit me. I also knew I had finger-shaped bruises on my upper arm from where Master had grabbed me.

Master. What an odd thing to call yourself. Whenever I thought of Master, it didn't feel like a title. The only reason I actually called him Master was because I had no other name for him; it seemed to me that Master _was_ his name. I knew it wasn't, but even when I called him Master it didn't make me feel like a slave.

The door of the kitchen opened and closed; I started, and turned to see who had come in.

It was Master.

He saw me looking at him and positively _growled_ at me. I felt my eyes widen as he came towards me. He took the knife out of my hands and looked at it as though inspecting it, then pressed the blade to my throat.

"Stop working again, 81030," he said, "And this goes through your heart. Understand?"

"Yes," I replied, and he took the knife away and slapped me in the mouth, snapping my head back so fast I nearly got whiplash. My lip caught on my teeth and I tasted blood.

Great, a bloody lip to add to my appearance. At least bruises went away quickly. A cut would last days.

"_You answer me with 'Master' at all times!_" He roared. "Don't let it happen again!"

"Yes, Master. My deepest apologies for my disrespect, Master," I said, somehow knowing that it was the right thing to say.

He nodded once, a deep glare still etched into his features as he stepped back a few paces. Then, suddenly, he threw the knife at me.

Out of reflex, I caught it by the blade. I didn't even cut myself.

"Get back to work," he said, and I could tell he was trying hard not to look awed at the catch I'd made. "All of you!" he shouted when he realized everyone was watching our exchange.

And with that, the room hummed to life again, and everyone continued working.

Master left, and immediately people began commenting on the conversation. No one dared move from their assigned position, but Lily called, "Nice catch, Hermione!" from across the room.

"Yeah, where'd you learn that?" George asked.

"I dunno," I replied uneasily. "Just got lucky, I suppose."

That was a lie. I hadn't gotten lucky. My father had been in the army before becoming a dentist, and he'd taught me exactly how to catch knives without cutting yourself; how to walk silently even through twigs and leaves; how to camouflage yourself for all types of environments; how to move without being seen; how to hunt; how to climb trees without moving branches; how to scale vertical, perfectly smooth walls without falling; how to listen for the smallest sounds, see the slightest movements.

He'd taught me much more than that. So much more. Things I hadn't needed to learn, things my mother didn't want me learning. I'd learned to shoot a gun, throw a dagger, use a sword, shoot an arrow, use a crossbow, and ten thousand other things he'd deemed useful.

I'd had the most varied, interesting childhood and education a kid could ask for; and I'd loved every bit of it.

Of course, how to tell people who'd lived centuries ago that my father, who was now a dentist, had been in the army...

Yeah. I didn't see _that_ going over easy. Hell, if you even said the word 'army' around these people, they'd probably scream, 'Army? Where?' and duck.

If only swords were the only weapons Voldemort had at _his_ command. At least with a sword you had a chance of escaping alive.

**DRACO MALFOY**

_TRAVELING_

Tristan and I were on our way to my meeting. This made me nervous; Katherine's parting words hadn't been all too cheerful.

I was also riding in a carriage. In my own time, before this whole time-traveling thing, I'd always thought carriages were for high-ranking women who were too lazy to walk and didn't want to get their dresses dirty. And, of course, the horseless ones that brought us from the train to Hogwarts at the beginning of the year.

I now realized that carriages were like brooms, or Floo Powder, or Apparition; if you needed to get somewhere, you used a carriage. That was all there was to it. If you didn't want to use a carriage, you walked. The end. There was nothing else with wheels out there.

We pulled into the drive of a huge, black mansion. It was intimidating; a tall, thin, black silhouette against the darkening sky.

"This man," Tristan informed me, "believes in power, money, and whatever suits him best. Keep that in mind. He hardly cares about anything other than his own comfort and well-being."

"What's his name?"

"We call him Tom."

I froze. Tom? Well, it was a common enough name. But could it be Tom Riddle? As in, Lord Voldemort? _No, _I told myself, fighting the automatic fear that came with saying Voldemort's name. _No. Voldemort wasn't been alive during this time._

"No last name, I assume," I replied.

"Oh, he's got one," Tristan answered. "He just won't tell us what it is."

"So where do I stand in terms of authority with him? Does he outrank me, or---"

"Far from it," Tristan cut me off, laughing. "He's practically your servant."

"Why?"

"Because you're the eldest son of Lord Malfoy," Tristan explained. "This is a business meeting. We're here to buy things from him; he basically collects treasures for us to buy. We're here because he sent word that he has some especially rare things for us. I'll handle the transactions," he added when he saw my worry. "But you have ultimate power over him. You can buy the rug under his feet if you so choose, and he's not allowed to ask why."

"All right," I replied, catching myself before I said 'okay.' I didn't think the word existed yet.

We stepped out of the carriage, and Tristan told the driver to park next to the castle and to be prepared to leave whenever we came back outdoors.

We climbed the stairs, and Tristan knocked on the huge mahogany doors.

A butler-type servant opened the doors and allowed us in, then led us to another set of doors. Opening them, the butler spoke to someone in the room.

"Master? They are here."


	9. Knight In Shining Armor

**A/N: I am so, so, so sorry about the wait. I promised an update within a week, and here it is October 17th. The fact is, my computer died, and the hard rive was completely erased (don't worry, all my writing is saved on my laptop also), and it took my father a week and a half to get it running again. I'm so sorry about that. take comfort in the fact that I wrote another three chapters while my computer was down, so the next two should be up soon as well. Sorry again, and thanks for the reviews!**

**CHAPTER NINE: KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR**

**HERMIONE "81030"**

_MASTER'S PALACE_

"All right, harken to me," said George, who appeared to be the head servant. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked up. He began assigning jobs to everyone; people to serve the salad, the soup, the appetizers, the entrees, the dessert, and the coffee.

I got the job of coffee-server.

Whoopie.

So we all made the salads look beautiful, careful with their presentation, and sent Harriet out to serve it. Harriet then waited inside the doorway of the room until they were finished, and took their plates away, leaving the room with them. Then Jeff went in and served the soup, and so on.

Finally it was my turn. I was nervous as hell. Harriet gave me a tray and a pat on the back; George opened the serving room door for me. I offered them a weak smile and carried the tray down the hall into the dining room. I poured the two men their coffee and was pouring Master's when I heard the sharp intake of breath from one of the men. I didn't look at him, just added sugar to Master's coffee from the bowl.

I looked up from the sugar when I heard a loud clearing of a throat...

And looked into the eyes of Draco Malfoy. He took in my bruised face, my bloody lip and empty eyes; that was all he had time to see before I went sprawling on the ground, my cheek stinging. Master had hit me again; this time, closer to my eye. I prayed I wouldn't receive a black eye as well.

"You do _not_ look guests in the eye!" Master roared dangerously.

"Yes, Master," I said meekly, but Draco was on his feet.

"You will not hit her again," I heard him order quietly, his voice just as dangerous as Master's despite it's quiet.

"I'll do what I wish with my slaves," Master retorted.

"You won't," Draco replied. "I wish to buy her, and I'll not have you damaging my property."

"Of course, young master Malfoy," Master answered.

"Tristan, take care of the purchase, would you?" Draco asked the other man, and the man nodded.

"Of course."

And then I felt arms around me, familiar strong warm arms, and I was lifted to my feet to find myself staring into slate-grey eyes.

"Hi," I said softly, staring at him and smiling weakly; the smile turned into a flinch when he reached towards my face. It had become reflex.

He looked shocked and angry as he touched my cut lip, ran his fingertips lightly over my bruised cheek. I didn't look away from his stone-colored eyes, fascinated with the range of emotions running through them behind the cold exterior.

"You should punish her," Master recommended as he took the money from the man called Tristan. "That 81030...she's been here only two days, and already she's looked me in the eyes and responded without respect. Little bitch."

Yeah. Shame on me. I nearly smiled.

"Do not insult a Malfoy's property," Tristan said coolly. I decided I liked him.

I stepped back from Draco's embrace and walked straight up to him, getting up in his face and loving the knowledge that he couldn't hit me anymore.

"My name," I told him coldly, "is Hermione Anne Granger, and despite what you may think, I can hear you speaking about me. You were given a mouth that closes and ears that don't. What does that tell you about how you should be living?"

"I wish to leave this place now," Draco said behind me, before Master could answer.

"But my treasures---" Master objected.

"I wish to leave also," Tristan cut him off. "Well, Tom, we take our leave."

And with that, Draco pulled me from the room and led me outside, Tristan leading the way.

**DRACO MALFOY**

_TRAVELING_

I was proud of myself.

Never in my life had I ever wanted to kill someone so badly as I had just then, and yet I'd managed to leave Tom's home without committing murder.

I'd seen Hermione's face, and all I could think was, _I want to find the person who did this to you, and rip them limb from limb_.

She'd seen me, her face lighting up with recognition; she'd gotten hit and fallen to the floor.

And she'd actually tried to _smile_ and said "hi" in that beautiful soft voice of hers that made you want to listen. When I'd gone to touch her cheek, however, she'd flinched away, afraid she'd end up on the floor again.

She actually thought I'd backhand her.

Oh, my poor Mya...

I led her into the carriage and managed to make it home without looking at her or touching her in any way that I wouldn't any other servant, but once we got back to my home I couldn't stop myself.

I led her into my room and sat her on my bed, soaking a piece of cloth and dabbing away the dried blood on her chin. She hissed as the cool water made contact with the wound, and I kissed her hand.

"Mya, oh Merlin, are you all right?" I asked over and over.

Finally she said, "Come sit with me," and patted the bed next to her. I sat next to her, my arms around her waist.

We sat in silence for awhile, until I sighed. She looked up at me, our faces close.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I just---" I stopped, taking a breath. "I'm so sorry."

She stared at me. "What on earth are you talking about?" she asked. "You're the one who saved me."

"But you're hurt," I said. "He hit you. Oh, Mya, I'll never let anything happen to you ever again, I swear it. I couldn't bear it at Tom's house; I nearly decided I'd be willing to go to Azkaban if I could just kill him."

"How is what Mas---Tom did _your_ fault?"

"I don't know...I just wish I could have rescued you sooner."

"You did save me," Hermione said quietly.

I looked at the floor and didn't respond.

"Hey," she said, her hand cupping my face and dragging my gaze back up to hers. "You still look like a knight to me. My knight in shining armor."

And then she kissed me. I felt a pain in my chest as my heart swelled with pure joy.

When she pulled away, I smiled. "Thank you," I told her.

We were silent for awhile, until Hermione spoke again.

"Where am I going to sleep tonight?" Hermione asked. "I'm just so tired."

"With me, of course."

She looked shocked. "I'm a slave! I can't just hop in people's beds with them!"

"Yes, you can."

She stared. "On your own head be it, then," she said, and took off her shoes. She unbraided her hair and laid down on the bed. She lay there, looking up at me, so beautiful with her hair spread out on the pillow. Then, slowly her eyes closed and her breathing evened out, and she was asleep.

I sat and watched her for a good hour, then realized the time and blew out the candle, taking off my own shoes and setting them next to hers.

Then I laid down next to her, facing her, and placed my hand gently on her stomach in a discreet display of possession.

In sleep-filled, automatic response, she shifted so that she was in my arms; she curled against me, her head beneath my chin. I kissed the top of her head.

I smiled into the darkness. It felt so right, having her in my arms, that I pulled her closer and went to sleep.

The next morning I woke with my arms around Hermione Granger. Sleepy, I shifted closer to the scent of woman and the scent of roses that she exuded. I kissed her neck, loving how soft her skin was, and trailed kisses up her jaw to her mouth.

She didn't wake up, just sleepily wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into her embrace. Enjoying how she pressed herself against me, I laid still until she woke.

Her eyes opened slowly, then widened when she realized that her whole body was pressed tightly against mine. She released me and rolled onto her back, flushing. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I replied, opening my arms to her. "Come back here."

She looked at me curiously for a moment, then curled back into my arms. I pulled her up against me and we lay there for awhile, just looking into each other's eyes. Our faces close, we just looked at one another for a long time. Finally she spoke, her hand resting on my cheek.

"Your eyes really are grey," she said. "I'd never seen grey eyes before, so I always assumed they must be light blue. But they _are_ grey."

"I hate my eyes," I grumbled. They'd gotten too much teasing for me to enjoy their slate-like color anymore.

"You have beautiful eyes," she stated, her finger running down my jaw.

And, quite suddenly, I liked them again.

I traced her mouth with a finger. "I could say the same of yours."

She laughed. "They're brown. Brown is the most common eye color on the planet."

"Your eyes aren't brown," I contradicted. "They're almost...gold."

She smiled, but didn't reply to that. "Your eyes look like glass shards," she decided, her fingers now trailing over my face. "Grey with those white streaks in them. Almost like a broken mirror."

"You should write poetry," I told her, playing with her hair.

She laughed. "Poetry about your eyes? I'd rather draw them. You still owe me a sketch, by the way."

"I forgot about that," I admitted.

"Will you let me sketch you when we get back to Hogwarts?"

I looked into her eyes. "Of course," I replied. I'd have promised her the world if it meant she'd look at me with the same expression of adoration that she offered me now.

"Thank you," she replied, kissing me gently on the lips. She pulled away far too soon. "Don't you have anything to do today?"

"I wouldn't know," I replied, kissing her forehead. "I've 'lost my memory' again, apparently."

"Shouldn't you go find out what you should be doing?"

I sighed. "Probably. Damn."

"Damn what?"

I shrugged. "I like lying here and holding you, I guess."

That surprised her. She didn't say anything about it, but it was with raised eyebrows that she said, "Well, maybe you should find Tristan."

"He's my brother, did you know?" I asked.

"No...you don't have a brother in your time," she remarked.

"You don't have a sister, either," I pointed out, "And when you were a princess, you had two."

"True," she agreed.

"I've got a sister as well," I told her. "Her name's Katherine."

"Hmm," she said. "Isn't it interesting how we keep our names? In both times so far, our names have been the same. It almost makes you think that these were past lives of ours."

"But that would mean we're connected," I pointed out. "Even centuries before we were born, we knew each other."

Hermione grinned. "Weird, isn't it?"

"Very," I agreed.

She sat up, looking out the window. "Oh my god...Draco!"

"What? What's the matter?" I asked, sitting up to look over her shoulder.

It was back. The swirling grey and black cloud. Right in the center of the field.

"Already?" I asked blankly. "Not that I particularly liked being here, mind you, but..."

"It's moving faster, I guess," she replied.

"Well, get dressed," I replied drily. "And we'll go catch our time portal."

Five minutes later, we'd put on our shoes and were heading towards the portal.

We stood before it, neither of us wanting to stay and yet not wanting to lose sight of one another again.

She turned to me and took my hands in hers. "Whatever happens, we'll find each other," she said, a question in her voice.

I kissed her gently. "Of course," I replied.

And so, holding hands, we both stepped into the time portal, feeling the familiar spiral towards unconsciousness.

Just before everything went black, I whispered, "I love you."

I wasn't entirely sure she'd heard me---or that I was ready for her to.

**HERMIONE GRANGER**

_LOCATION UNKNOWN_

I opened my eyes groggily. Unlike the other two times I'd time-traveled, I didn't have a headache.

No, it was the rest of my body that ached. I felt tired...so tired.

There were voices not far away, but I couldn't open my eyes. I was too tired.

I drifted back into unconsciousness before I even knew where I was.

**DRACO MALFOY**

_LOCATION UNKNOWN_

More than anything, I decided, I wanted to go back to sleep.

But I forced my eyes open, remembering the promise I'd made to Hermione to find her.

And found myself right next to her. The problem?

We were both chained at the wrists and ankles to a wall.

_But she's here with you,_ my brain reminded me. _Sleep._

Who was I to disobey my brain?

**HERMIONE GRANGER**

_LOCATION UNKNOWN_

I woke up some hours later, I thought; the light beneath my eyelids wasn't half as glaring and bright as it had been. My neck and shoulders hurt like hell.

I opened my eyes cautiously, assuming that I was alone from the silence.

I was wrong. None other than Draco Malfoy was right next to me.

He was also chained to the wall.

It took me a full minute to realize that I was chained up, too. They had to have drugged me, whoever had chained me up like this---I could never remember being so tired or so disoriented in my life, and that was including the first day I woke up with a cat's face.

I looked over at Draco, who was just waking up as well. His hair had fallen over his eyes, giving him the look of a young boy waking up sleepily from a nap. He promptly shook his hair out of his eyes and looked at me.

"Good morning," I said, and my voice held the dry and rasping tone of a dehydrated person.

He smiled bitterly. "Good? Good would have been asleep in my bed at home. Where the hell are we?"

"No idea," I replied, watching him. All of a sudden, his eyes widened as he looked at me.

"Mya---you---"

"What?"

"Your hair," he said blankly.

I raised one eyebrow, tilting my head towards my hair to feel it.

"What about it?" I asked.

"It's---black," he said. "And it's all pinned up."

I got an idea. "Pinned up with what?"

He gave me a blank look, as if he couldn't believe I was asking about fashion at a time like this. "What do you mean, pinned up with what? There's a million little metal things in it, if that's what you're asking."

"Bobby pins!" I said delightedly, making sure my voice never got too loud.

"Bobby who?" Draco asked blankly.

"No—_pins_, bobby pins, they're things to hold your hair up. Here, hang on," I said, tilting my head towards my hand, which couldn't move very far while shackled to the wall. I felt around on my head until I located a bobby pin, then pulled it out. A shock of hair fell free of my hairstyle and swayed in front of my eyes.

It was black. I thought for a moment it might be dark brown, but it was black. Black like a raven. It startled me, but I had more important things to think about than my hair at the moment.

With some careful maneuvering, I managed to get the end of the bobby pin into the keyhole of one of the shackles. With a _click_, the shackle swung open, baring my wrist, bruised and raw.

"Hey Harry, was that you?" said a voice from the corridor. Quickly, I slid the bobby pin back into my hair and closed the shackle, but made sure not to let it lock again. I gestured to Draco to pretend to be asleep, then did the same.

I heard footsteps, then a muttered, "Huh. Still asleep." I heard more footsteps, this time heading away from the cell, muttering, "Can't believe I gotta waste my time watching a buncha burglars..."

I nearly laughed. Draco and I were here because we'd stolen something?

When I was sure the man was gone, I quickly freed myself completely, then helped Draco unlock his bonds. Then we stood silently.

Draco shook his head. "Great plan, but now what?" he whispered.

I went to the cell door and stuck my head out cautiously. There was a guard, sitting at a desk not ten feet away. I pulled back into the cell and reported this in a whisper.

He looked around. "The window," he said quietly, pointing at a tiny window above where we'd been chained.

I looked at it; winced. "It's small," I pointed out.

"Tight fit," he agreed. "But it's worth a shot."

I crossed the cell and opened it, praying it wouldn't creak.

It didn't.

But it only opened halfway. Draco looked crestfallen, but I held up a finger, then pointed to the hinges. "Half-pin barrel hinges," I informed him. "If I can slide it to the left, it'll come free."

After some shoving and a few anxious glances in the guard's direction, it came free. Draco climbed up, then reached a hand through to help me.

I was halfway out the window when I heard the shouts.

"Hey! Harry! They's gettin' away! Harry, where'd yeh go? Harry, they're escapin'!"

And then a moment later, a much deeper and more stern voice:

"Freeze! Put your hands were I can see 'em!"

I felt the cold metal of a gun in my back. I stopped moving.

"Draco," I whispered. "Run."

"No," he said, and tried to pull me up.

"Draco," I said quietly, sweetly. "I have a gun in my back. Run."

There was a flicker of fear in his slate eyes. "I won't leave you."

"Do it, Draco," I snapped, still quiet as the cop tried to pull me back into the cell. "If you don't leave, we'll both get caught. Find the portal, keep using it to get to Hogwarts. Tell Dumbledore. Go!"

"I'll wait for you," he replied. "Try and get out. I'll try and figure out a way to get in and save you."

"My knight in shining armor," I said with a smile.

And before he could answer, I was pulled back inside.

And came face-to-face with the cop called Harry.

He was good-looking in a rugged, tired kind of way. He could have used a shave. He was tall, at least a few inches taller than Draco, with a shock of rich black hair that fell into his green eyes. He was skinny in a way that seemed more unhealthy than weak.

"Harry?" I blurted without thinking.

The man before me raised his eyebrow at me.

"Well, look here, the girl's got ears."

Slight accent, I noticed, tilting my head as I listened.

"Yeah, I'm Harry," he continued. Scottish, maybe? "Any other observations?"

_Your name is Harry James Potter, your favorite food is shepherd's pie, your parents were James and Lily Potter, maiden name Evans; you were born midnight of July 31st, your favorite color is black..._

"None at all," I replied.

"Good." he took my arm and dragged me out of the cell, down a hallway into a room with a long conference table. An interrogation room. He slapped a pair of handcuffs on me and had me sit down, then placed a notepad and pencil on the table in front of the chair across from me.

"Now how about telling me your name?" he asked.

"You don't know it yet?" I asked. "How can I be in prison if you don't know my name?"

"Caught you red-handed robbing that house, little miss. Drugged you. This is our first chance at interrogation. Name?"

"Pansy Parkinson." I said the first name that came into my head.

"Pansy," he repeated. "The hell you're a pansy."

Somehow, I knew exactly what to say and when---like we were simply actors in a well-rehearsed play.

I grinned. "Thank you."

"It wasn't a compliment," he replied, but I could see him struggling to hide a grin. "You were hard as hell to catch."

"That _is _a compliment," I answered. "It's a compliment to any criminal to tell them they're good at avoiding capture, no?"

"I suppose," he admitted grudgingly. "How about telling me what you were trying to steal?"

Somehow, I knew exactly what to say and when---like we were simply actors in a well-rehearsed play.

I grinned widely. "Not a chance, Sheriff."

He looked startled. "How did you know I'm the Sheriff?"

"Lucky guess," I replied. I had no idea where the information had come from.

"Harry, what do you want me to do with the forms for---oh."

I recognized the voice before I even saw the man. It was the voice I'd heard yelling for Harry when he'd discovered Draco and I escaping. And when I turned my head, I recognized the man as well.

"Neville," I said in surprise.

Both men looked completely unnerved.

"How did you---?" Neville asked. "Do I know you?"

"No," I replied, then added flippantly, "I'm psychic."

It was an old saying in my family. Whenever someone knew something they shouldn't have known and didn't want to admit to eavesdropping or rat anyone out for telling, we simply said "I'm psychic."

The moment I said it, however, I realized with a start that both men believed me.

"Psychic? Really?" Harry asked.

I smiled, playing the part of a confident criminal.

"Of course."

Neville's eyes narrowed. "What's my favorite color?"

"Red," I replied easily, thankful I knew the answer.

"What's my pet's name?"

"Trevor. He's a toad."

"Wow," Harry said.

"Wicked," Neville added. "More."

"What, I've got to jump through your hoops now?" I asked. "Just because I'm psychic, and you want me to prove it? Well, quid pro quo, gentlemen. You don't get something for nothing. Tell you what---one of you goes outside and gets my partner Draco. He's blond with grey eyes; he'll be standing against the wall near the window to our cell. Then you give us information---whatever information we ask for. I'll show more of my psychic abilities and give you my word not to steal again in exchange for information and release from prison."

Harry and Neville exchanged looks.

"Done," Harry said. "I'll go get him."

"Oh, he won't come with you," I told him. "He'll think it's a trap."

"I'll just say Pansy wants to see him," he told me.

I laughed. "You were right when you said I'm not a pansy. My name's Hermione Granger."

"A lie," he sighed.

"A white one," I pointed out.

"So I'll tell him Hermione wants to see him."

"No; tell him Mya does. That way he'll know it's from me."

"Mya?"

"Just a nickname," I assured him. "Go."

After Harry left, Neville looked at me in awe.

He wasn't really Neville, but the resemblance was close; he looked like Neville probably would if he gained twenty pounds, grew four inches, and didn't shave for a week. And, of course, aged about fifteen years.

"So is your partner psychic, too?" Neville asked.

I sat back in my chair, relaxing. I put my feet up, determined to keep the attitude light and friendly.

"That's his secret to tell," I replied.

Just then, Harry came in, Draco at his heels.  
"Hello, Draco," I said, ultimately relaxed. "Join us, won't you?"

Draco grinned, catching on.

"Of course, Mya. I'm your knight in shining armor."

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

The half-pin barrel hinges idea, of course, comes from _Pirates of the Caribbean_, one of my all-time favorite movies.

I stole the "quid pro quo" thing from _Silence of the Lambs_, though I shouldn't really need to note that since a common expression. The "You don't get something for nothing" part is from _Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy._ (Can you tell I love watching movies?)

Thanks for reading, and I'd really appreciate a review—good or bad. I apologize again for the ridiculously long wait!


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